


I Found

by Duarte89



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: AU, F/M, Season 2, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10058225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duarte89/pseuds/Duarte89
Summary: “Why?” There must be a reason for him to hunt her down like this.Happy shrugged again, “Because I’m curious too. I’m curious, and I don’t get curious often.”





	1. Always

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love me some Happy Lowman, and he needs some lovin'.
> 
> Inspired by the song, I Found by Amber Run.

 

 

It wasn’t frequent, these trips to Charming, but they were the closest town to the ranch that had a hospital.

St. Thomas, and what a godsend it was, was a proper hospital and not a small town clinic. She could go in and out, have the injury patched up with prescriptions and go back for a follow-up without being too long away from home. Didn’t have to worry about people gossiping about her, or what exactly she was doing there, and spreading it around. No fuss, no need to make this bigger than it’s already turning out to be; she’d handle it.

Breathing in deeply, forcing to inhale and exhale evenly, she didn’t let herself think about the mess back at home. It’s a miracle that she had gotten the flu and stayed behind while the rest of her family went to East Los Angeles to visit family. The argument could be made that it’s a tragedy that she had stayed behind, but she was of the opinion that everything happened for a reason. Besides, the important thing is that she had a plan…a plan that involved only her. Less people that knew the better; she’d handle the clean-up when she got back.  

Spotting the welcome sign to Charming, she felt the ball of tension in her stomach loosen. Soon she’d be in the hands of nurses and doctors.

The pain, the leftover codeine that her brother had from when he had broken his leg, was being pushed back but was never too far away from her mind; it was a distant throb that reminded her that something was wrong. Hand clenching tight around the wheel, she pulled into the parking lot, numbingly parking in a free spot and turning off the engine. With the pause of activity the panic and terror was starting to creep back in, starting to steal her breath and blur her vision. Tightening the hold that she had on her side, the faint throb of pain pushed it all back and allowed her to move. Getting out of the truck, she limped her way to the entrance, every muscle in her body pulled tight and eyes straining against the bright fluorescent lights. She could feel her body begin to shake, but in that distant way that only opiates can achieve. Her side no longer felt warm with her blood, but cold and sticky.

Breathing heavily now, but still forcing the same calm pace that she held in place with grit determination, she passed a tall lean mean looking man wearing a black leather vest leaning against the wall. She spared him a glance and watched as he straightened at the sight of her. His eyes…the curious light in them almost made her pause.

“You’re bleeding on the floor.”

Frowning, she turned to give him a look before managing to catch a nurse’s attention. Seeing the nurse round the nursing station and go for a wheelchair she turned back to the man. “Really, I hadn’t noticed.”

The man stared at her with dark eyes before looking down at her waist, “Should have bleed out by now.”

Weirded out by his statement, by the total confidence in knowing just how much a wound like hers bleeds, she turned away from him. Watching the nurse’s wheel up to her, she hobbles to them and manages to sit down without help. She tiredly looks up and sees the man with the leather vest still staring at her. He’s looking at her with peculiar fascination, and impulsively she tells him, “Always.” She gives him a weak grin, “That’s how I stemmed the blood.” She’s rolled away into the ER room and thoughts of strange men and their sick fascination with blood falls away.  

Her mind starts to lag, tired from the grips of fear and the need to survive and defend; it lags with blood loss and forced calm, it lags as she tells them as much information as they need to treat her. She doesn’t mention how she got injured, she doesn’t mention where she got injured, but she does mention the codeine; and that’s only so they won’t overdose her. She also tells them that she’s been sick these past days.

As the nurse calls for the doctor, she lets herself sink back into the antiseptic smelling bed and finally let’s herself relax.

 

* * *

 

 

Happy stares down the hall, where that pale sweating woman had been wheeled out before she died of blood loss.  

_Always_

Was that code for something?

He hummed in contemplation for a bit before feeling his phone vibrate. Pulling it out he read the text message about the room being empty and made his way to it, all the while thinking about the woman’s split lip and bleeding side. Looked like defensive wounds to him, and the fear that was in her eyes…that particular fear was something that Happy recognized. It was the same look that his marks would have when the club would send him. But underneath that fear, there was something else…something that Happy was familiar with long ago.

Walking into the room he saw Chibs staring up at the TV with a blank look, Jax already settled on the other side of the room.

“D’you know that I’ve watched nearly the eight hours of Dr. Phil? What shite is that I ask you?” Chibs said as he turned to look at Happy and Jax, a grimace on his face before turning back to the TV where the episode title was _A Housewife’s Double Life._ “And people say that we’re crazy.”

Jax grinned and shook his head in amusement, “That stuff’ll rot your brain.”

“Trust me brother, if all the shite I did when I was your age didn’t kill me, I doubt Dr. Phil here will.” Chibs said with a grin as he watched the couple on the screen started yelling at each other. “My damn appendix had a good shot though, bitch hurt.”

“Either you know what Always is?” Happy asked as he stared at the screen, the southern drawl of Dr. Phil barely audible since Chibs liked having the volume down.

Jax frowned as he turned to the Nomad, “They’re pads.” Chibs raised a brow at the blonde man. “Tara uses them, after a while a man starts remembering.”

“Pads?” Happy couldn’t help but ask as he thought about that. She used pads to help with the blood, he’d never even thought about that.

Jax and Chibs shared a Look, “Yeah…you know…women use them when it's their time of the month…you know…uh their periods?”

“I know what a pad is, just didn’t know that there was more than one brand.” Happy said with a surprised expression, eyes fixed on the screen.

“What’s the sudden interest Hap?” Chibs asked, morbidly curious as to why Happy would want to know about pads.

Happy watched as the man started flailing his fat arms about, how the woman moved back unconsciously to avoid being hit and how the fat white man got in between and drawled for both of them to calm down and sit down. “…Saw a woman walk into the hospital. Looked half dead and from where I saw her bleeding she should have been dead a while ago. Told her that and she just said that, Always…had me curious.” Happy can sense the looks from his brothers but he just keeps his eyes on the screen, wondering just how that woman got cut up.

Was she doing something shady? And what happened to the ones on the other end of the knife?

It isn't until hours later, when Jax left saying something about the Doc and night shifts that Happy gets up from his chair and leaves a sleeping Chibs behind. He wanders around, needing to stretch his legs, and casually walks by the main nurse’s station from earlier in the day. He scans the women and man, and zeroes in on the man that Happy can practically smell the fear coming off from. Waiting until the nurses walk off, Happy strolls up to the desk and stares straight at the man. “Need some information.” He says, tracking the man’s jerky movements with hidden glee. Just as the nurse gathers enough courage to talk to Happy the Doc comes strolling out of a door, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“...Looking for Jax?” Tara asks in a neutral tone, having remembered that Jax had said that Happy was a Nomad of SAMCRO.

Happy stares down the nurse for a minute longer, just because he can and it's fun to watch a grown man all twitchy, before turning to look at the Doc. She’s pretty, Happy supposed, in the clean cut kind of way. Dark hair pulled into a bun and blue scrubs on. Happy doesn’t know what Jax sees in her but really isn’t his business what his brother gets his dick into. Besides that’s Jax old lady, that demands respect, even if the Doc thinks she’s too good for the club.

Happy walks a little away from the desk, knowing how uncomfortable he’s making the Doc, knows how uncomfortable the nurses are but not enough to stop staring at them. “Woman came in earlier, bleeding on her left side, looked pretty beat up.”

Tara waited for him to say more, but when the man before her stood quiet she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay…” She began, trying to see any rhyme or reason to this strange request, “I’ll check around.”

Nodding his thanks Happy watches as the Doc walks away, waving down the nurses as they no doubt ask if she's okay. Happy waits until she’s entered the ER before turning and walking out the hospital. Jax’ll call him when his old lady gets the info.

 

* * *

 

 

Tara had spent half her shift talking with the ER staff, slowly making her way round and making small talk, until she finally found what she was looking for.

“Oh that patient, Dr. Drummond put her in for overnight observation, was in a pretty rough shape coming in but tough as nails. Apparently the patient drove herself here, parked and walked in; all that with a nasty laceration covering almost her entire waist, bruised up and a split lip.” Nurse Tina tells her as she fills out a report.

“Jesus, has she spoken to the cops?” Tara asks as she comes to a stop next to the older woman.

“No,” Tina says with a dry look, “said that she fell. Works on a farm and was fixing a shed wall, tripped and got cut up by a loose nail.”

Tara raises her brows and gives Tina a Look.

Tina raises her hand with a purse of her lips, “Hey you don’t have to tell me, heard enough lies about abuse to spot one a mile away; but if she doesn't press charges what can we do?”

“Jack shit apparently.” Tara replies with a sigh. “Maybe I can talk to her I don’t know maybe get her to reconsider.”

“Hey knock yourself out Dr. Knowles. Lord knows Dr. Drummond won’t, old bastard. She’s in room five Nurse Wallace is finishing up her stitches.” Tina points to the back before walking to the nursing station.

Tara nods and makes her way to room five, knocking on the door softly before stepping inside. Wallace, a young man with smooth dark skin, looks up from looping the final stitch.

“Dr. Knowles.” Wallace says as he clips the line of suture cleanly.

“Mind if I take over?” Tara asks with a soft smile, making sure to widen her eyes innocently.

Wallace nods, “Sure. Don’t worry, you’re in excellent hands. Dr. Knowles here is one of our best surgeons.” Wallace disposes of the bloodied gauzes and soiled equipment in the biohazard containers, striping off his gloves meticulously before washing his hands.

Tara steps further inside the room, grabbing at the patient’s chart and starts memorizing the details. Wallace bids them a goodbye and Tara whistles as she puts down the chart. “Never thought pads could be used other than reminding us girls about our monthly problem, gotta say pretty ingenious to use them like that.”

“Figured that it’d help with the bleeding.” Was all the patient said as she lay back on the bed, hospital gown racked up her stomach and bunching up just under her chest.  Tara could just make out the endings of tattoo. The hospital blankets were pooled low on her hips, leaving exposed her midriff and with it the long cut starting from high left on her waist and ending just a little past her belly button. “How long until I can get discharged?”

Tara paused in washing her hands to give the woman a bewildered look. “They didn’t tell you? Dr. Drummond put you in for observation, just for the night considering your injuries.”

“No,” the patient said forcefully as she turned to look at Tara with pinched eyes, “no that’s not going to work for me. I need to get back. I only came to get this stitched up properly so it won’t get infected.”

Tara pulled on gloves and rolled the tray over, with the antibiotic cream and dressings on top, to the bed with a frown. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. You have an inch and half deep cut crossing your waist, and you told our staff that you’re currently fighting off the flu. We need you here in case your body suffers a shock, or you get a fever that needs immediate attention. Any deeper and you would be admitted and put into surgery to make sure no internal organs were damaged. You’re lucky that this is the extent of the cut.” Tara explained as she gently covered the wound with cream. “You know, I was in a really bad relationship a while back. Stayed in it because I was scared of him, but also because we were both professionals-upstanding citizens…we didn’t fit the cookie cutter for abusive relationships. I kept my mouth shut because I was ashamed that I would let that happen to me, ashamed that people would know and then see me as weak. It wasn’t until after that I realized that telling someone is the bravest thing I could have ever done.”

“I’m happy that you’re no longer in that situation, but what happened to me was an accident involving a shed, a nail and my own clumsy footing.” The patient said after a beat of tense silence.

Tara didn’t sigh. She just kept on working and paused to hover over a large bruise on her stomach. “So the shed fought back huh?”

The patient looked away, expression blank. “I thank you for your care, but I am not staying. As soon as you’re done I’m discharging myself, AMA.”

Tara did sigh this time. AMA- Against Medical Advice. Not many people knew about it and it figured that this patient would know about it. “That is your right, but at least come back for your follow-up.” Tara covered the wound with gauze pads before grabbing the gauze to wrap it around her.

“I will.” The patient said quietly.

“All done, now I’m going to write you some prescriptions that you can fill at our pharmacy. If you feel ill at any time call the emergency services or come directly here if you are able to.” Tara said as she threw away the gloves and cleaned up the room before washing her hands again. Pointing to where the clothes that the patient had come in with were, Tara waited as the patient shuffled to the bathroom and changed. Grabbing the chart Tara read it once more before the patient came out. Together they made their way to the discharge station, after the paper work was filled out and prescriptions were given Tara watched as the patient slowly made her way out.

“No luck huh?” Tina said with a grim smile.

“Nope.” Tara said with a fake grin.

“Hopefully she wises up before the next time she comes in, she won’t be so lucky. Cases like hers always escalate.” Tina said before walking off to attend to another patient.

Tara watched Tina go before looking at the exit, “Here’s hoping.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hap.”

Happy stilled and turned to watch as Jax strolled up to him, cigarette in mouth and casually eying the garage parking lot.

“You going on a run?”

“No.” Happy answered, suspecting what Jax was really asking.

“Need your help with an order.” Jax said as he cocked his head towards the open bay areas.

Happy scanned the lot and saw that only Chuck was in the office, the rest of the club either inside the clubhouse or out. Nodding he dismounted his bike and trailed after Jax, sitting on the other side of a beat up bike that needed rewiring work.

“So…Tara told me some interesting facts the other day.” Jax started before taking a long drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out on the ground. “You planning a hit?”

Happy shook his head as he set to work on the wires.

Jax watched the enforcer and saw no lie in him. Not that Happy was known for it. The crazy bastard was renowned for his honesty as well as his ruthless streak. Jax wondered just why Happy would ask Tara for help? He must have known that Tara would tell him. Why wouldn’t the enforcer just ask him directly? “Dolores Vane, age twenty-eight, height five foot ten, weight one hundred and sixty-two pounds. Self-admittance for a laceration one and a half inch deep, six inches and a half long; wound was stitched up and wrapped by Tara, and she saw bruises on her stomach. The split lip was minor and didn’t need treatment. The woman, Vane, claims that she tripped and fell while she was fixing a wall on a shed. Tara tried to get her to talk, because her wounds were defensive, but said that Vane kept saying that it was an accident. Not to mention that she was sick when all that happened. Discharged herself against medical advice and left. Has a follow-up in three weeks.” Jax stared at Happy, watching for any reaction and had to bit his tongue not to chuckle out loud at how the enforcer narrowed his eyes towards the end. “Lives out of town, could get the address if you want?”

Happy paused and looked up at Jax, could see the amusement in his eyes, and shrugged.

Jax did smile then, “Okay. I’ll get Tara on it.”

Happy nodded, “Thanks brother.” Wiping his hands on a rag Happy stood and walked off, mounting his bike and putting on his helmet. Driving off he didn’t notice Jax chuckling at him, all he thought about was how the woman, Dolores Vane, came to get cut up the way she did. And who was she protecting…who was she afraid of that had her lying to the Doc and practically running from the hospital?

 

 

* * *

 

“Yeah?” Happy answered as he stood next to the gas pump, waiting for his tank to be full.

He was on making his way back to Charming, taking care of a pest problem for the club, and had stopped in a sleepy little town to resupply. The enforcer listened to Jax, could practically see the Vice President’s smirk, as he rattled off the woman’s address and directions. It was almost two weeks since he’d seen her at the hospital, and with Jax’s information Happy knew that he’d pass by her place on his way to Charming.

“Appreciate this brother.” Happy couldn’t help but say, knowing that Jax could have let it known that he was sniffing around a woman. An injured woman at that, Tig would find that a riot.

“Have fun.” Jax said with a little laugh before hanging up.

Happy rolled his eyes, only because no one was around to see him. Pushing the phone back in his pocket he finished fueling up and mounted the bike again. Within minutes he was on the interstate and roaring down the road towards Charming.

Miles later he saw the sign for a little town, and turned into it. Slowing down he eyed the street signs and made his way to back roads until he caught sight of a mailbox with the house number that Jax had given him. Turning he drove up the dirt road and spotted the large house and small barn. He could see the beginnings of a fence in the distance, the bored mooing of cows. He parked next to a black pick-up and had just taken off his helmet when a voice called out.

“Don’t move unless you want to be full of bullets.”

Happy stilled, hearing the cold edge in the woman’s voice. He looked up and saw her, pale face and looking somehow sicker than before, standing on the porch with a shot gun braced against her shoulder. He watched as she stepped down the porch stairs and slowly made her way closer to him, the shot gun never wavering from his direction.

“…You’re that man from the hospital. What are you doing here? How’d you find out where I live?” Dolores asked, voice chilling further as she tightened her grip on her gun.

“Was wondering if you managed to kill all of the fuckers who cut you up?” Happy asked casually as he kept his eyes on hers. He’d been on the wrong side of a gun too many times to get nervous, even if he knew that this woman would make good on her threat. He waited and watched the second his words made themselves at home in her mind.

There…there’s that wondrous panic.

“Didn’t they tell you? I fell.” Came the terse reply.

“Bullshit.” Happy said with a bite, knowing that the power balance had just shifted into his court. “I saw the look in your eyes. I saw the fear. I saw the cold light that comes from taking your first life.” Happy said evenly, watching as the woman looked away for a moment. “Considering that you didn’t press charges, got me curious to what you did with the bodies. Did you destroy all the evidence?”

Dolores trained her eyes right back to the man, “You tracked me down because you _think_ I killed someone and want to know if I cleaned up after myself? You do know how crazy you sound right?”

Happy shrugged, “I have unique interests.”

“If we follow your logic, what’s to stop me from killing you then?”

“You can try, but I wouldn’t recommend getting into a fight with me.” Happy said with a wolfish grin.

Dolores stared at him for a second longer before cautiously lowering her shot gun. “You’re creepy, who gets excited by that? And who ratted me out at St. Thomas? I went there specifically so that no one would know. Shit hospital and its privacy law breaking asses.” Huffing out a tired breath she leaned back against the porch railing, “You said you saw some look in my eye…how would you even recognize it?”

Happy stared at her, willing her to look deep into his eyes. He saw the moment she understood, saw how her body tightened up and how she flinched back. It always pleased him, the reaction people had when looking too close at him.

“I don’t even know you.” Dolores said as she thought about training her gun at him again, only she was feeling drained. “Why the hell would I even tell you a damn thing?”

“Normally I would tell you that you don’t want to know me, but,” at this Happy slowly dismounted keeping a careful eye on the shot gun, “seeing as you and I have something in common changes things. I’ll help you, if you need it, if you tell me.” Happy took a slow step forward, gauging her reaction, “Besides I can see it, you’re curious. Curious to why I’m here, curious to what I can help you with.”

Dolores felt her heart pound, making her feel weaker, as he made his way to the porch and finally come to a stop a few feet in front of her. With him this close she could take in his features; he was older than her. Not by a lot she would guess, maybe six or seven years? Tall, definitely passing six feet, and lean; the type of lean that spoke of coiled strength and lightning fast movements. Golden brown skin with tattoo sleeves on both arms. A plain white tee that made his leather vest stand out prominently and plain blue jeans.  She could make out three patches on his vest. _Sons of Anarchy, Unholy Ones, Nomads._ Dolores didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded like a biker gang. That and the motorcycle parked next to her truck was a big clue. She couldn’t see his eyes he still had on his shades. “Why?” There must be a **reason** for him to hunt her down like this.

Happy shrugged again, “Because I’m curious too. I’m curious, and I don’t get curious often.” He watched as she processed that, a frown forming between her brows. She was tall for a woman, but he was taller. She was dressed in loose clothing, probably to not aggravate the wound, and had on flip flops. Her toes were painted a bright purple. Her skin looked pale, eyes dark with exhaustion and was sweating.

Dolores sighed and pointed the gun at the ground, holding out a hand. “Dolores Vane.”

“Happy Lowman.” Happy shook her hand, felt how clammy it was, and wondered if whatever she was sick with hadn’t fucked up with her wound and got it infected. “So?”

Dolores eyed him warily but in the end took a wild chance on him. The man had put in too much effort in finding her, and really she was tired of keeping this to herself. Maybe this man, Happy, would know how to help her. Not to sound like an ass, but he looked like a man who knew what he was about in these types of situations. “My family went out of town and I stayed behind because I got sick with the flu. Heard a noise out back and went to check it out, and before you say anything I took the shot gun.” Dolores said in a sharp tone as she shuffled her way back up the porch stairs and into the house, holding the door open for the unnerving man ludicrously named Happy. “Barely had set foot on the grass when a guy just suddenly jumps out from the shadows, waving a knife at me and screaming about money, I didn’t even have time to think just reacted and pulled the trigger. He went down hard, right there.” She pointed to a patch of grass with skid marks. “I was just about to freak out about shooting him in the chest, had the shot gun lowered, when another guy just barreled into me. Tackled me to the ground and started to hit me.” Here Dolores laughed mirthlessly, “I’m one of seven, third eldest, I know how to fight. After the surprise I wrestled him off me, but not before he cut me. I didn’t even feel like, I was just so mad; mad that these two assholes would come to my house to try and rob us. I was so furious that they thought that they could take me out. That time, I knew what I was doing when I grabbed the gun and shot him dead.” Dolores pointed out another patch of grass, further away from the first patch. “Noise travels out here, so I knew that there was a chance that no one heard the gun shots. And even if they did, no one really reports it considering we’re out in hills. Tried to patch myself up but I underestimated the cut. Knew that I needed to get it treated right or risk infection, so I went to St. Thomas. Came back and dragged the bodies into the woods and buried them.”

“Didn’t open your stitches?” Happy asked, impressed at the fortitude of the woman.

“No, I went slow. Almost thought I’d never finish but I did. Burned my clothes and washed away the blood.” Dolores said as she pointed to the woods.

“What about the shells?”

“Grabbed them, melted them down. I cleaned the shot gun too.”

“Anyone else coming sniffing around? They weren’t wearing one of these were they?” Happy pointed to his cut.

“I haven’t been sleeping since, I would know if someone came through but no one has come around. No, they looked like drifters. Never seen them in town, and this place is small enough that everyone knows everyone. Looked through their pockets and found no wallets.”

“I could move the bodies.”

“To where?” Dolores asked with skepticism. “Wouldn’t people notice you carting them off?”

Happy just shrugged, “Got a van. You don’t need to worry about where, just somewhere where they can’t be linked to you.”

“You’re going to need help digging them back up and loading them.” Dolores pointed out, swaying a bit. “I’d help but I think I’d slow you down at this point.”

Happy glanced at her and grabbed her arm. He felt her flinch and then stiffen at his touch. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just don’t want you face planting. Come on, inside.” He felt her resist for a moment before relaxing. “I’ll bring someone to help me, he won’t say a word.”

“How are you sure?”

“He’s family.” Happy said as he led her back into the house, asking where her room was. By the time he had her bedroom door open Happy was almost carrying her entire weight. The room smelled of sick and the curtains were drawn shrouding the room in darkness. Flipping on the light switch Happy felt his lip curl at the disarray.  

“Been a little busy to clean up.” Dolores said sarcastically.

Happy turned her around and went back to the living room, helping her down onto the sofa. He heard her breathe out hard, eyes closed against the pain and sweat rolling down her temple. “Where do you have clean sheets?”

Dolores opened her eyes quick to give the man a shocked look, “What? No, no you don’t have to do that.”

Happy just kept on staring at her, “Where do you keep the clean sheets and cleaning supplies?”

Dolores scowled but in the end just resigned herself to having the strange man clean. “Cleaning supplies under the sink, clean sheets in the closet in the hall.”

Happy grunted his understanding and went to work. After stripping her bed and putting on clean sheets that didn’t smell of sweat and sick, he cleaned the room and pulled back the curtains. He found her medication and after washing his hands, throwing the dirty sheets in the washer, went to the kitchen and found a can of soup. By the time he had the soup heated up and in a bowl, a glass of water to swallow down the meds, he found Dolores asleep on the couch.

Her face was pulled into a pained grimace, and she was still sweating. Putting down the bowl and cup Happy stared down at her and wondered just what the hell he was doing.

He didn’t do this.

He didn’t track down strange women just because they were roughed up. He’d seen beaten women before and had never felt the need to stalk them. He definitely didn’t heat them up food and bring their medicine to them, Happy only did that for his Momma but she’s different and it doesn’t count, and he definitely didn’t spend nearly two hours cleaning up their rooms.

Staring at the woman Happy considered threatening her to keep her mouth shut about ever seeing a Son. Mutual destruction, she doesn’t open her mouth and neither would he.

Except….

Except something was holding him back, keeping his attention firmly locked onto the woman.

Maybe it was the way she had held herself the first time Happy had seen her. Shoulders slightly hunched, hand gripping onto her side to stem the blood, but eyes dry as the desert; bright with a volatile mixture of fear, determination and a will to survive. It was a tempest, her eyes. Swirling between emotions, but the last two…determination and survival…those two were hid behind the fear and pain. Like a lioness lying in wait, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce and make her kill.

“Fuck me.” Happy murmured as he backed away.

Next he’d be talking shit about her hair like a fucking idiot.

Feeling his phone vibrate Happy quickly grabbed it and turned away, anything to distract him from the poetic thoughts rippling through his mind. “Yeah?”

“So, how’s it going?” Jax practically sang out.

“…Good. She’s sleeping.” Happy said simply, his mind too crowded with thoughts.

“Already, damn brother.” Jax laughed.

“Not like that, had to talk her down from shooting me in the face.” Happy said as he turned to look at her from over his shoulder.

“Don’t sound so excited Hap,” Jax said chuckling, “so, was it worth it?”

Happy turned fully around and stared at the sleeping woman, watching her shift and stiffen at the flare of pain. She didn’t wake up, just made small whimpering sounds. The shot gun, which she hadn’t let go the entire time she was with him, was laid down on the ground. Within reach, ready to be picked up in a seconds notice.

He’d never met a woman like her. Not even Gemma, who was a fierce woman, could hold his attention like this woman did.

“Yes.” Happy snarled with a grin, mind made up. He hung up, cutting whatever Jax was going to say since the woman grunted before opening her eyes.

Light brown eyes, pinched with pain and fever, locked onto him. “Happy?”

The enforcer felt a shiver try to work its way up his spine, but he ruthlessly pushed it down and stood straight. “Eat.”

Dolores closed her eyes, feeling like roadkill, before pushing herself up. Feeling like she had run a mile, and breathing like it too, Dolores inched closer to the coffee table and began to eat the luke warm soup. It didn’t take long for her to finish and lean back against the sofa, exhausted and in pain. Closing her eyes to stop the dizziness, Dolores breathed in and out for a long minute before opening her eyes again. Jerking back she saw a calloused hand outstretched towards her. It took a second to see the pills lying innocently in the middle of the man’s palm. Looking up, she saw that the man, Happy Lowman, had taken off his shades. Impossibly dark eyes, like dark chocolate, stared down at her before they shifted to his hand.

Taking the pills she put them in her mouth and grabbed the cup of water from him too. Swallowing them down she leaned back, handing him back the cup, and waited for the codeine to kick in.

“You’re running a fever.” Happy said as he stood close to her, looming over her.

“No kidding?” Dolores couldn’t help but sass back.

“Need to check you out.”

“Ha! No thanks Doctor.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

Happy clenched his jaw and bent towards her, his eyes narrowed. “Do not think that I won’t retaliate.”

“Gonna hit me?” Dolores said with a mean twist of her mouth, slowly shifting herself closer to the gun.

“Yeah,” Happy said before grabbing her wrist in a too tight hold, “I’ll turn you over on your stomach and smack that ass.”

Dolores froze at the mere implication of being spanked before baring her teeth. “Listen you-”

“If you have a fever because you’re sick then you need to keep on with the meds, but if you have a fever because of an infection to the cut then you need to go to the hospital.” Happy said over her. Coming to a decision he pushed the coffee table back and crouched down, “Lift up your shirt.”

“Okay,” Dolores said with incredulity and brows raised high, “first you come to my house and make creepy demands. Than you offer to help me get rid of the bodies and clean my room. You wash my sheets and make me soup. All things that I can accept, in a bizarre way, but you are not playing doctor with me creep.”

Happy stares at her, “I know what an infected wound looks like. The faster you listen, the faster you can cover up.”

Dolores gnashes her teeth, shaking her head for a couple of minutes before unceremoniously lifting her shirt. “There, now hurry up ass.”

Happy rolls his eyes before zooming in on the wound. It looks angry, red and bright against the black stitches. Happy leans closer and smells it before moving back and taking in her midriff. She’s got a bit of a pudgy stomach and a tattoo on her upper left rib.

_Always._

Only the A barely looks like an A.

“Doesn’t smell infected, probably hitting you worse since you’re fighting the flu.” Happy says as he tugs down her shirt. “Do they itch?”

“Not yet,” Dolores says as she gets into a more comfortable position, “I know how healing stitches feel. One of seven siblings, and growing up out here well accidents happen.”

“So, you live with your parents?” Happy asks as he catches sight of a family photo hanging by the wall.

“Don’t say it like that.” Dolores complains as she moves couch pillows, deciding that she felt better laying down.

“Like what?” Happy asks as he looks at her.

“Like I’m a loser for staying with them,” Dolores says with a ghost of a smile, “I happen to love my family. There are only three of us left in the nest, the rest left.”

“So why did you stay behind?”

“I like the quiet. I like waking up to the sounds of roosters, getting up with the sunrise and working the farm. I like sitting on the porch and drinking a cup of coffee, I like the simplicity of it all.” Dolores told him. “That and I don’t have to pay rent.”

Happy stares at her in silence, watching as the meds take effect as her eyes start drooping.

“Don’t do anything weird to me while I’m asleep.” She slurs, hand going to settle over her wound.

“Why would I do anything weird?” Happy asks with a twitch of his lips.

“Because, you’re the oddest man I have ever met.” Dolores replies before falling asleep.

Happy grins before making sure she really is asleep. Getting up, his knees cracking a bit, he reaches for his cell.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to come out here with the van, just you.” Happy says as he moves away from the living room and into the kitchen.

“…Thought you said this wasn’t a hit.” Jax says evenly.

“It isn’t. Need to take out the trash.”

“How heavy?”

“Two, bring shovels.”

“Alright, on my way brother.” Jax says before hanging up.

Happy slips his phone into his pocket and figures since he’s waiting on Jax to get here he might as well eat.

By the time Happy hears the van coming up the driveway, he’s cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom. Idle hands, that and he can’t stand seeing mess. Dolores is still asleep, so Happy leaves her with a glass of water and the meds close by. Walking to the front door, he sees Jax climb the porch steps a leer grin already tugging at his mouth. “Shut up.”

Jax raises his hands, “I didn’t even say anything man.”

“Don’t need to.” Happy lets him in and is closing the door when he hears her.

“Hands up.”

Happy turns and sees her twisted uncomfortably on the couch, shot gun braced on her shoulder and hair wild with sweat. Jax has his hands up and face set in a calm mask. “He’s with me.”

“A heads up would have been nice, woke up and saw him pop out of the blue. He’s lucky I don’t move so fast right now.” Dolores says as she glares down the barrel, fevered eyes narrowed and focused on the blonde man. She doesn’t feel comfortable enough to put down the gun, not just yet. She looks him over, taking in his ridiculously handsome features and his leather vest. Watching him for a minute longer she slowly lowers the gun and shoots a glare at Happy. “He your family?”

“He’s my brother.” Happy says still eyeing the shot gun.

Dolores looks at the blonde man again, seeing his blue eyes smiling at her under thick blonde eyebrows. Coming to a decision she stands, shot gun pointing to the ground, and signals them to follow.

Keeping quiet, and feeling like this is all a drugged out dream that she’s having, she leads them to the woods and doesn’t stop until she sees the marked tree. “There.” She says as she leans against a tree.

“Not going to shoot me if I turn my back?” Jax asks with a small grin.

“If you annoy me enough maybe.”

“Jax.” He introduces as he holds out his hand.

“Dolores.”

They shake hands and soon Jax is headed back to the van while Happy stays in the woods with Dolores.

“Sometimes I think that this is all a nightmare,” she whispers, “that I didn’t kill those two men; that I didn’t go to the hospital for a cut that’s going to scar. But then I move, feel the pain and I remember. And you know what,” Dolores ask as she turns to look at him with a stilted look, “I don’t regret it. I don’t regret fighting for my life and winning. I don’t regret that they’re dead and I’m alive. I’m happy that they’re dead…what does that say about me.”

Happy looks out to the trees, silent for a long moment before he grins, “It means you’re like me.”


	2. Only for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t try to act so high and mighty with me.” Happy growled as he tugged her forward, dodging a fist aiming for his face with a wolfish grin. His blood was surging and he felt the thrill of a fight fill his body. “I’m not the only one with a sick fascination. I saw your face when we rolled up the trash and loaded it up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Only for You by the Heartless Bastards.

 

“Everything quiet since we’ve been gone?”

Dolores smiles bitterly, knowing that her Father can’t see her face since he’s standing behind her, “Same old, same old Apa. Had to go to the doctor for the flu though, it had me laid out.”

Her Father makes some sympathetic noises, coming closer to clasp her shoulder warmly before walking off to check the fences. It’s been a month since that night that they’d almost been robbed. So far no one has come around asking questions, and that chilling man named Happy had disappeared since he and his brother left with their loaded van.

For two weeks after they left Dolores had run on almost no sleep and high paranoia. The shot gun never left her grip. It’s a miracle she didn’t shot herself when a rambunctious raccoon scared the living daylights out of her when she went to throw out the trash. Eventually she relaxed enough to let the shot gun go, and not a moment too soon since her family came back. As they hugged her, the twins squeezing her, it took all she had not to cry out in pain. Her cut was finally healing and at the stage where it didn’t hurt as much; but then again that might be the pain pills talking. The flu finally left her, leaving her weak but feeling like she could breathe again and not smelling like sick. Even her split had healed and could be covered up with foundation until the last of the pinkness faded.

Now, as she watched her Mother in the kitchen from the window, she wondered how she would ever go back to the blissful ignorance of before. Before that night where she bloodied her hands, where she dragged two corpses into the woods with a single mindedness that she didn’t know she was capable of; where she had painstakingly dug up one mass grave, pushed them inside and just as emotionlessly buried them.

Before Happy Lowman drove up to her house, and life, on the back of a black motorcycle looking like an Agent of Death sent to aid her.

Jesus help her, she was waxing poetry about the man.

Focusing back to the present Dolores went to the next cow, lowering the small stool and grabbing Madge’s udders. She was almost done milking their cows, the buckets heavy, focusing wholeheartedly on the task in order to not think about anything else. It wasn’t until her Mother called her that Dolores realized that she’d spent almost the entire afternoon milking the cows. Standing up, cracking her back that had cramped up from being hunched over, Dolores jerked as she stretch a bit too far as her stitches tugged. “Zachary, Charles! Come help me with these buckets!” She shouted as she picked up one.

The back door opened and thundering steps echoed out to her, soon the babies of the family rushed in. Zachary and Charles took after their dad, striking blue eyes and tanned skin, sharp features and wide goofy grins.

“So Loli, did you have any parties while we were gone?” Zachary asked as his long dark hair hung free about his face.

“Please like she would, probably drank tea and sat on the couch all day.” Charles snarked, his long hair pulled into a half bun.

“Se callan los dos,” Dolores snapped out in Spanish, “I relaxed, preparing myself the inevitable return of you disasters.”

“Please,” Zachary said as he rolled his eyes.

“You know you missed us.” Charles ended matching his brother’s expression.

Dolores grinned as the twins each grabbed a large bucket and waddled back to the house. Their Mother used the milk to make cheese, just like how her Mother had taught her back in Mexico. Besides their small little farm, they owned a store in town. Nothing luxurious, but for being so small the store made good money. Dolores mainly manned the store with her Father, her other siblings having moved away to follow their dreams. The twins were graduating this year and were talking about going to veterinary school, so chances were that they'd probably stick around for a couple more years.

Walking into the house she let the hustle and bustle of her Mother working in the kitchen wash over her. Leaving the milk by the stove Dolores sat at the table and let her brother’s reign over the conversation. She stayed quiet, not really thinking on anything as she scooped up some beans with a tortilla, when she heard it.

Her Mother paused in rolling the masa into a ball, head turning towards the front. Brown eyes narrowed as she cocked her head at Dolores to go check it out.

Dolores, who knew and wished she didn’t know who it was, gritted her teeth but stood anyway. She made her to the front door, opening it a little too forcefully, and crossed her arms as the roar of an engine soon revealed a motorcycle as its source. She noticed that her Father had come from the back, coming to a stand in the yard. Soon the engine was turned off and the rider slowly took off his helmet and just sat there, staring at them as if there was nothing out of the ordinary with his appearance. Dolores saw her Father take a step forward and rushed down the steps to stop him from interacting with the biker, “It’s for me.” She said hurriedly with a forced grin and a bashful shrug.

Her Father eyed her with suspicion, shifting to look at the biker with raised brows before sighing. “I’ll be inside.”

Dolores waited until her Father was inside before marching to the biker, eyes narrowing and heart in her throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” She hissed as she neared him, hands fisting in anger and paranoia.

“Can’t an old friend come and say hi?” Happy said with a rough voice, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“We aren’t friends.” Dolores snarled as she took another threatening forward, “You only came to my house, uninvited might I add, to satisfy your own sick fascination. Your… _help_ …was appreciated, but if you think I owe you some kind of debt then you’re fucking insane.”

Happy gave a coarse bark of laughter before he suddenly moved with a speed that surprised Dolores. She had barely taken a step back when Happy surged forward to grab her wrist in a bruising grip, face shadowed by the setting sun and eyes hidden by sunglasses. Today he was wearing a navy hoodie under his leather vest, black jeans and black sneakers. He looked dangerous…he **is** dangerous. Dolores scowled heavily as she tried to break free.

“Don’t try to act so high and mighty with me.” Happy growled as he tugged her forward, dodging a fist aiming for his face with a wolfish grin. His blood was surging and he felt the thrill of a fight fill his body. “I’m not the only one with a sick fascination. I saw your face when we rolled up the trash and loaded it up.”

Dolores stiffened, throwing a paranoid look back to the house before giving the madman a menacing look. “Keep your fucking voice down.”

“Sure.” Happy said with a small little mean laugh, loosening his grip on her wrist.

It didn’t escape his notice that she didn’t even try to deny her fascination. More interested in tearing him apart for upsetting her pretty little life. Happy savored how she looked. Her rigid posture, how she puffed out her chest and held her head high, how her fists kept clenching and unclenching with the itch to do violence. How her mouth was curled in a snarl, brows furrowed…but it’s her eyes that’s the real show. Those dark eyes lit with unholy rage. Reflecting the need that she has to crush him, to dominate him, to end the threat that he poses to her normal life.

It just spurs him further to mess her up, to taint her...to make her realize that she is in the presence of a kindred spirit. No one else will take the time to appreciate the cold calculating nature that she has hidden in her soul. No one else will be able to understand her affinity for violence. No one but him to accept her the way she is.

A savage. A wolf’s in sheep’s clothing. An Agent of Death.

Glorious.

Happy couldn’t have stopped the genuine smile that stretched his lips even if he tried. He was just about to speak when a heavily accented voice ripped through the heavy atmosphere that had encased the two.

“Loli, se te esta enfriando la comida. Invita a tu amigo a comer.”

Happy narrowed his eyes a bit at the Spanish. He figured that with a name like Dolores, that she’d have Latin roots, but the last name had him thrown. That Spanish though, Happy recognized the tenor. That’s the same way that the Mayans spoke. Which meant that Dolores had to be Mexican.

“Ma,” Dolores whined just a bit under her breath, aggressive stance lost as she hunched her shoulders in embarrassment, “el no tiene hambre, ademas ya se va.”

Happy raised a brow, his Spanish rusty but he guessed that he was being invited in the house and Dolores was saying otherwise. Stepping forward he said in choppy Spanish that yes, he’d be happy to come inside.

Dolores made a choking sound as she flashed dangerous eyes at him, but Happy just grinned and made his way to the house.

She could not believe the audacity of the man. With his barely passable Spanish and his stupid swagger. Dolores felt as if she had a fire blazing in her chest, the need to punch Happy and send him far away from her life almost overwhelming her. Happy represents everything that Dolores is trying to bury. The descent into the darkness that humans are capable of. Dolores wanted, more than anything, was to forget that she was now an example of the saying ‘you never really a know a person’.  

Dolores found herself feeling her anger more sharply, more lethally, then she had ever felt it before that night-and she didn’t know whether she hated it or loved it.

God what kind of a monster was she if she derived a sense of power and satisfaction from it; what kind of monster was she if Happy Lowman was coming to her house to pay a social visit?

 

* * *

 

 

Happy had put on his most non-threatening mask on during dinner, hunching his shoulders to make him appear smaller and giving small smiles. He was seated across from Dolores, a direct view of her tense shoulders and those dark eyes warning him that if he even sneezed wrong she would take him out.

God he’d never been more aroused then he was at that moment.

Two predators circling each other, jaws open and teeth bared; all the while putting on a façade so the sheep wouldn’t frighten at the killers amongst them.

This felt different then when he was with his brothers. They were all hardened men, Men of Mayhem, but that felt like being in a pack. This though…this was a whole different animal. Happy had to prove to her that he was the best of their kind for her.

He was washing plates, his Momma had taught him manners, back to the woman’s family where whispers barely reached his ears. He knew that they were talking about him, the mother in particular. The instant she had caught sight of him, her eyes widened and shot a not so subtle Look to her daughter.

Looking at the matriarch, Lucinda Vane Hernandez the elder woman had introduced in accented English, Happy saw that Dolores resembled her slightly. Long dark curls and brown eyes, wide plush lips and wide hips. From her father, Alexander Vane, Dolores had gotten her height, strong jaw and cream colored skin.

SAMCRO didn’t have a healthy relationship with Mexicans, but Happy figured that since Dolores dad is white that it balanced it out. It wasn’t truly about race, Happy could two shits about her ethnicity, but the fact was that the Mayans were always fucking shit up with SAMCRO; once bitten, twice shy and all that bullshit. Happy knew that the more paranoid of Sons, Tig and Clay, would be squirrely around her.

Happy almost dropped a plate in the sink at that thought.

He knew that he was interested, but to even think of her going near the club was fucking insane. Happy finished cleaning in forced calmness and turned to find just Dolores in the kitchen with him.

He watched as she stood leaning against a chair, eyes trained on him in deep thought. The enforcer could hear her family in the living room, giving them privacy. Happy wondered what her next move would be. Would she threaten to kill him the next time he was tempted to come out to see her?

“It was weird, seeing you acting like a normal person,” Dolores said lowly before closing the distance between them, “but thank you.”

“For what?” Happy asked, curious.

“For putting on a mask for my family. You didn’t have to, but you did.” Dolores said, staring at Happy…looking for something in his eyes. “My parents only think you’re some wannabe hoodlum that’s trying to impress me and them…if only they knew what you **really** are.”

Happy kept his face blank, staring back at her before inching closer. The noises faded into the background as the heat from their interaction swelled inside his gut. Happy breathed her in, noticing that she no longer smelled sick. She smelled of soap and hay, a hint of musk from no doubt working the farm.

She was so different from the Crow Eaters at the club, with their faces slathered in make-up and doused with perfume. Dolores was barefaced, and dressed like a nun compared to the sweet butts. Instead of tight fitting shirts that barely covered tits, Dolores had on a loose flannel shirt with a tank under. Instead of short skirts that showed the curve of ass, Dolores had on well-worn jeans that were loosely fitted. Instead of towering stilettos, Dolores had on work boots. Her hair was loose and frizzed with heat and hard work.

She was everything that Happy had never looked twice at. He preferred blondes that spread their legs with a glance and opened their mouths with a just a grunt from him. He preferred the simple nature of Crow Eaters. There was no commitment, they were there to fuck and to disappear when shit got serious. They didn’t make demands or overreach.

Dolores was not a Crow Eater. She wouldn’t spread her legs with a glance or open her mouth to him. Happy would bet that she would cut him if he even tried. Dolores reeked of commitment, she was not the kind that he could fuck and expect her to fuck off when he finished coming. Dolores would make demands and overreach because she **could**.

Happy wasn’t sure if his interest in her was a passing thing or not, but staring at her Happy felt a tugging in him that made him hunger. 

Coming to a decision, Happy leaned forward and sniffed her neck. He felt her stiffen, but grinned at how she didn’t move away. He nosed his way up her neck, inhaling her scent, until he reached her ear. There he bit down on the soft flesh of her ear and growled, “Don’t forget that you’re putting on a mask just as I am.”

Happy heard her hiss before her strong hands were at his chest, pushing him back. He hid his surprise at her strength, keeping a dark smirk fixed on his face and eyes alit with unholy humor. He relished at she seeing her like this; chest heaving, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated.

Happy counted this as a win, luring her further into his thrall, as he walked past her. He didn’t expect her hand to clamp down in a crushing grip on his shoulder. He couldn’t stop the shiver crawling up his spine as she dug her fingers painfully into the meat of his trapezium. He kept his gaze straight, making sure that no one entered the kitchen, as she leaned up to his ear.

“Don’t think that I won’t bite back.” She hissed darkly before sinking her teeth onto the lobe of his ear.

It took all of his self-control not to turn around, grab her shoulders and push her into the wall and maul her. Happy closed his eyes at the heat that shot straight to his dick at the pain. Opening his eyes he turned to glance at her with a composed look, but at the sight of her smirk Happy knew that his desire was showing through his eyes.

Dolores watched as Happy’s eyes turned black, his breathing kicking up just a tad. She felt a tightening in her abdomen and let go of him, stepping back and breathing in deeply. “Have a safe ride back Happy Lowman.”

Happy felt his fingers twitch to grab at her and balled them up in frustration. He made his way to the front door, Dolores shadowing his steps since they still had to put on a show for her family. She stopped at the top of the porch stairs, eyes hot on his back as he put on his helmet and mounted his bike. The roar of his engine pierced the quiet night, but it didn’t register to him.

All Happy could feel as he drove away was the throbbing of his ear lobe, the shadow of her fingers clawing into his muscle and the heat of her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a party at the clubhouse for Bobby’s release from prison and there’s pussy everywhere, yet Happy sat slouched in a dark corner drinking alone and scaring away the Crow Eaters that came up to him. He could see Tig’s wild blue eyes practically fucking every sweet butt in the club house, Chibs laughing with Bobby as they got lap dances, and Clay smoking on a cigar as he watched a bitch twirl on the stripper pole. Jax was outside in a bare knuckle fight that he’ll win, and Happy can see Opie in his own dark corner drinking with the distinct smell of gloom.

Fucking tragedy what happened to Opie’s Old Lady. Donna was a good one; strong in her own right and handling shit head without Opie holding her hand every second.

Feeling eyes on him Happy looks up and see’s Tig’s crazy gaze on him and decides that he’s not in the mood for it. Sighing he gets up and makes his way to sit down next to Opie. He feels Opie glance at him, the cloak of sadness that surrounds him managing to cover Happy and stopping Tig from following. No one messes with Opie anymore. Not since Donna and his slow swirl into depression and recklessness.

“What’s wrong?” Opie asks gruffly, lazily holding a beer and surveying the room with half hooded eyes.

Happy grunts, taking a long pull from his beer, and shrugs, “Who said there’s anything wrong?”

Opie scoffs, “Usually at this time of night you’d be balls deep in pussy and cackling like an idiot with Tig.”

Happy shrugs.

Opie furrows his brows and turns to look at Happy. Usually the enforcer is in the thick of SAMCRO’s parties. Either fighting someone or fucking someone with a wild abandon that only Tig could ever come close to matching. Taking a closer look at the Nomad Enforcer Opie watched as Happy looked blankly at all the bare tits and ass dancing about the place, his attention fixed somewhere far from the clubhouse. Opie watched with growing amazement as Happy gripped his shoulder, a small little ghost of a smile showing before he stiffened with awareness. His hand drifted back down to his lap and he turned to look at Opie with a silent questioning look.

“Holy shit.” Opie murmured, brows rising in shock and a playful grin tugging at his mouth.

Happy chugged his beer and placed it on the floor, getting up silently and leaving Opie and his all too knowing gaze. Throwing dark looks at anyone who tried to stop him, smirking as they shuffled out his way, Happy went to his room and closed the door. The bass of the music created a comforting lullaby as his thoughts focused on Dolores.

If he concentrated hard enough, Happy could still feel the sting of her teeth and the strength of her hand. Its been a few weeks since that night and the ghost of her touch was slowly fading.

Happy, even though he had decided that he wasn’t going to let Dolores go-commitment and all-, didn’t know what to do next. He never had to think about getting a girl like that. Since high school all he ever had to do was give a girl a look to see if she was down to fuck. If she was, then he’d pull on a rubber and fuck, if she wasn’t he’d go on to the next one. No fuss no muss.

But she wasn’t like any other woman he knew and Happy was left standing with his dick in his hand as to how to proceed. Happy found that he didn’t like the feeling of uncertainty. Of having his insides tighten and squirm at the memory of Dolores eyes focused on him, of her smell filling his senses and her teeth scraping his flesh.

“Fuck.” He snarled as he looked down and saw the reaction his body had when remembering her.

Shit needed to be resolved. He wasn’t some fucking prospect, young and wide-eyed at the big new world. Happy needed to get a game plan on how to get Dolores to be his Old Lady. Because he sure as shit wasn't about to let her go and the only way she'd stay with him, and only him, was to make her his Old Lady. 

Only...and here was the kicker...Happy knew that he’d have to go to Jax for help. He could already see the smug grin on the V.P.’s face, blue eyes laughing and head cocked to the side. Happy would deal with it, knowing that even though Jax would probably laugh throughout the whole time he’d give his all to help Happy.

First step decided Happy slowly relaxed and fell into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey.” Jax said with a wild grin, face flushed and knuckles red.

Opie rubbed his chin, grunting at Jax as his best friend sat down next to him.

“What’s with the face?” Jax asked, still riding the adrenaline high and sticking a cigarette in his mouth. Lighting it up he took a lungful and slowly blew it out, the nicotine mixing with his adrenaline to send him into a blissful haze.

Opie glanced at his best friend and grinned, “I think our friend Hap has a sweetheart.”

Jax choked on smoke, his cigarette dropping from his mouth and onto the floor. “What?”

Opie laughed at Jax, slapping a hand at the blonde’s sweaty back to clear his lungs. “You heard me.”

“What makes you say that? It’s Hap.” Jax said, bewildered and hoping that Opie wouldn’t catch onto the fact that Jax knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I’ve seen that stupid look that he had on plenty of times with you. Mooning over Tara during school, and even now. You sorta space out and get this look on your face, all soft and squishy. Makes you look like an idiot.” Opie said with a sly grin, laughing at Jax’s non amused face.

“I don’t look like an idiot, I’m manly.” Jax said with an offended air before he elbowed Opie with a grin. “Besides are you sure?”

Opie shrugged, slouching down and spreading his legs out. “I know the look Jax.”

This is said with a grim look that sucked all the amusement and left Jax feeling cold. Opie would know the look considering he had Donna. Wondering if he should tell Opie about the Vane woman, Jax was saved from opening his mouth by Opie chuckling.

“If Happy can find someone, then there’s hope for the rest of us.” Opie said with a bitter grin, a faint light in his eyes.

Jax didn’t know if Opie was joking or not but he grinned at his best friend and hoped to God that that porn star the Opie was fucking would get his mind off Donna. Just thinking about her, and being in the same room as Tig and Clay made Jax’s skin crawl but he’d endure it for Opie’s sake. SAMCRO was the only thing keeping his best friend together. If he were to find out that SAMCRO killed Donna…Jax didn’t even want to think about what Opie would do.

“You good?”

Jax blinked away his maudlin thoughts and turned to look at Opie, seeing his best friend looking at him with concern. “I’m good, just thinking about what you said.”

“I know I’m right man,” Opie said with a grin, “imagine how the woman who’s able to make Hap ignore all the sweet butts in here is.”

Jax smiles wide, remembering a wild haired woman glaring at him with a shot gun pointed right at his chest. “Trust me brother when I say that for safety sakes, we should leave that to Hap.”

Opie agrees and the two share a laugh, a bright break into the shroud of darkness that seems to hang over them lately.

 

* * *

 

 

“So,” Jax said, stretching out the vowel, “you want me to help you in convincing Vane to be your Old Lady?”

Happy looked around, making sure that they were alone in the parking lot, before nodding.

Jax pushed his sunglasses up to give Happy a serious look, “You sure Hap? Being an Old Lady, I mean normal people aren’t up to it.” Tara leaving him behind all those years ago was evidence enough, even if she came back. She loved him, true, but she didn’t love the club.

“She isn’t normal.” Was all Happy said.

In truth Happy wasn’t worried about Dolores being close knit to the club. He didn’t want another Gemma on his hands.

Jax considered Happy for a second before an impish grin spread across his mouth, “Happy and Dolores sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Happy with a baby carriage.”

Happy shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it all, “You going to help me or fuck around? I could always ask Clay.”

Jax’s laughter cut off sharply, all humor gone from his eyes. “No.”

Happy didn’t change his neutral expression, but he found **that** reaction interesting. Everyone could feel the aggressive flow between Clay and Jax. Happy wondered about it, but he was Nomad. The Mother Chapter’s internal problems didn’t touch him so he didn’t bother to focus on them; though if push came to shove he’d side with Jax.

Happy watched as Jax sucked on his teeth, blue eyes hard before he pushed back the rage and they brightened with good humor once more.

“Well first things first, do you like her or do you just want to fuck her?”

Happy frowned in confusion, “What difference does that make?” Of course Happy wanted to fuck her, he wasn’t a fucking saint.

Jax grinned, white teeth bright against his blonde scruff. “Trust me brother, it makes all the difference in the world. Women _know_ when a man just wants to hit it and quit it and when a man wants to hit it and _keep_ hitting it. They’re bloodhounds, able to sniff out even the faintest whiff of bullshit.”

Happy stayed confused, thinking on how empty headed the Crow Eaters were.

“Sweet butts don’t count. Sure they can smell a lie, but they’re so deep in self-denial that they forget that they’re only groupies and not Old Lady material.” Jax explained.

“Okay…” Happy said haltingly, “I want to fuck her but she’s not a Crow Eater to me. I **know** that she’s commitment.”

“Well, the easy parts done at least.” Jax says with a sigh.

“Easy? Brother, admitting that shit and then making a decision to still chase after her was one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Happy told Jax with an adamant look.

Jax raised his hands in surrender, “Hey I believe you, but trust me it’s only going to get harder from here out. _You_ may have decided that you want to pursue a relationship with her, but does _she?_ ” Jax asked with raised brows. “The club life, the Nomad life, it might be too much for her. And if she says no Hap-”

“I may do many things Jax, but when a woman says no it means no.” Happy interrupted with a ruthlessness that stilled Jax.

Jax waited a moment before forcing himself to relax. Rarely did he ever feel threatened by Happy, but seeing him like that reminded Jax of what lay under the mask. “Women like when a man knows things about her. Remembers her favorite color, or her favorite food.”

“The fuck?” Happy said with a slightly disgusted look.

“It’s all in the details brother.”

 

* * *

 

 

“No, you can’t surprise her with a Glock.”

“Why not?”

“Because Hap, it’s disturbing when you don’t really know each other.”

“We know each other.”

“Helping her dispose of bodies doesn’t count.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because Hap, and I can’t even believe that I have to explain this, it makes it look like you _only_ like her because she’s killed.”

“But it is why I first noticed her.”

“…Hap…brother…if you want me to help you to land this chick as your Old Lady, than trust me when I say that that doesn’t help you at all.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s wrong with getting hot dogs?” Happy asked with frustration.

“Hap, no woman wants to be taken to a hot dog stand for a first date.” Jax stressed.

“She lives on a farm,” Happy said, imitating Jax, “I fucking doubt she’ll be bothered by it.”

“It’s because she lives on a farm that she won’t be impressed with going to a hot dog stand Hap! A woman wants to feel appreciated, like you’re making a fucking effort because she’s different from the rest.” Jax said with zeal.  

“...”

“Tara leaves her magazines in the bathroom, makes for a good read when I’m on the can.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Flowers?” Happy asked with heavy skepticism.

“Women love flowers.” Jax said tiredly.

“By the time I get there the wind would have torn off all the petals.” Happy pointed out with the type of petulance usually found in toddlers.

“Don’t they have a store in her town?” Jax said with exasperation.

“…Okay. So I get flowers, go up to her house and politely ask-while maintaining eye contact but remembering to blink since it’s ‘creepy’ to be too intense so soon- if she’d like to go out to dinner with me. If yes text you to green light the reservations to the little Italian restaurant, if no retreat and try again.”

“Yes, Hap. That’s the plan. Now deciding what flowers is up to you. A woman will know if you’ve put thought into it or not.”

Happy looked around in paranoia before whispering, “…You still have those magazines at your house?”

“Don’t worry brother, I’ll slip them to you on the down low.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dolores was cleaning out the chicken coop, the chickens out and about within the small caged in area that was solely for when their coop was being cleaned out and they wouldn’t get in the way. She had just finished shoveling out the manure, dirt, shavings and feathers out. She was giving the shed a good hosing with a cleaning mixture when she heard the roar of a motorcycle.

In all honesty, since that night where they bit each others ear, Dolores couldn't stop thinking about him. It was weird and kinda fucked up, but so very hot in an primal way. Feeling butterflies in her stomach Dolores clamped down on it with a merciless grip, but felt her heart skip when the back door opened.

“Loli! That boy is here again!”

Dolores chuckled at her Mother calling Happy a boy.

Happy was **all** man.

Shaking her head Dolores turned off the hose and walked to the house. Making her way across the kitchen to go out and greet him, Dolores jumped in fright when her Mother let out a horrified gasp.

“Dolores Socorro Vane Hernandez!” Lucinda snapped in a harried Spanish whisper. “You are not going out there smelling like chicken and mierda.”

Dolores closed her eyes in a grimace, hating how her Mother was able to reduce her to feeling like she was five years old again. The fact that her name was also so antique was another thorn in her side. “Ma…”

“No,” Lucinda glowered in a way only Mexican mothers could when they sensed a potential serious relationship for their nearing spinster age daughters. “That boy has come twice now to visit you. Do you know how many other men do this? Mija, don’t be stupid and go take a quick shower so you don’t smell. Charles can finish cleaning the chicken coop.” Lucinda at this point had grabbed a hold of her eldest daughter, nearing thirty and still single, and manhandled her down the hall. She had Zachary stalling the boy, once she got Dolores in the shower she’d go out and get the boy in the kitchen.

Food always distracted men from their original goal.

Lucinda wrestled with Dolores to hurry her in the shower. She had grabbed onto the flannel when Dolores squeaked and squirmed away and practically barricaded herself in the bathroom. Feeling like she was missing something Lucinda shrugged and turned to raid her daughter’s closet.

Sighing at all the flannel and ripped jeans, Lucinda settled for a pair of dark jeans that were more form fitting than the rest and one of the few tight shirts that Dolores owned. For shoes Lucinda saw she only had boots or sneakers as selections. “Santo Dios, ayudame.” She prayed as she looked on despairingly. In the end Lucinda had no choice but to choose some clean black sneakers and said a prayer for good luck.

In the shower Dolores stared at her reflection, wondering if she dragged her shower long enough Happy would grow tired and leave. Hearing her Mother leave and call out a greeting lit a fire under her ass though. Her Mother and Happy in the same room spelled disaster. Who knew what she’d say to the man in her absence, probably give a bullet list as to why Dolores would make a suitable wife.

Undressing in seconds Dolores stepped into the shower, turning the water on and frantically pouring shampoo and body wash everywhere.

Ten minutes later, it would have been five if shampoo hadn’t gotten in her eye and threaten to blind her, Dolores was rushing out and hurriedly drying herself off. As she hauled on some underwear, her hair dripping water down her bare back, Dolores eyed the outfit her Mother laid out and decided to just bend to her will.

Those jeans did make her ass look fabulous.

Feeling like she was being timed for the world’s fastest record in getting ready, Dolores was dressed in minutes. She raced through putting her shoes on and ran a brush roughly through her hair, wincing at the pull of knots. She powered through it and gave her a reflection a considering look.

“Eh.” Dolores shrugged at her image. She looked decent.

Stepping out she looked in the living room and saw Zachary playing a game, alone. Turning her attention away, she glanced into the kitchen and felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him.

Jesus Christ.

It was only the back of his head, why the hell was she getting so worked up about that?

As if smelling her Happy turned and gave her one of his patented creepy stares. The ones where he didn’t blink…at all. Dolores pushed down the urge to fidget with her hands and gave him a small smile, “Hi Happy.”

Happy for his part just kept staring. She was wearing jeans that hugged her hips and a shirt that didn’t swallow her boobs.

She had boobs. Nice, handful sized boobs.

“I’ll be outside with Charles, Dolores,” Lucinda said with barely held in glee as the two stared at each other. Oh, if she played this right there would be a wedding and grandbabies!

Happy realized with a start that he was staring, he could practically hear Jax yelling him to blink, and looked away. He looked down at his plate of food, a couple of tacos that Lucinda had somehow magically made in the span of five seconds. Remembering that he had come here with a game plan and not to eat tacos, soon though because those tacos were good, Happy grabbed the bouquet and stood.

Feeling nervous, and then pushing down said nervousness with a vengeance, Happy turned and awkwardly held out the flowers.

Dolores couldn’t help the gasp of surprise that escaped from her. Her hand flew to her mouth and she didn’t even realize that she was smiling.

Happy had gotten her a bouquet of purple and white dahlias, with a simple string wrapped around them.

Not even realizing it, she stepped closer with a soft smile and gently took the flowers from him. “They’re so beautiful,” she said softly, gently touching the soft petals before bringing them to her face so she could smell them.

Happy slowly breathed out a sigh. He owed Jax a six pack for this. Seemed like the flowers were a homerun. He watched as Dolores changed from the fiery woman who wasn’t afraid to bite back at him, to this soft eyed woman who looked like she didn’t know the meaning of violence. Happy felt his throat tighten when that softness was sent his way via a wide smile and bright eyes. “Thank you Happy, I love them.”

No one had ever looked at him with such softness, no one besides his Momma.

And in that moment Happy knew that he wanted everything. All her sharpness and all her softness. Suddenly it wasn’t impossible for him to find the words that he needed.

“I know that we didn’t start off on the right foot,” Happy said lowly, his voice gravel but as soft as he could make it, “but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I close my eyes and all I see is your smile, the way your hair shines in the sun and how the memory of your voice makes me hot.” Happy takes a chance and steps closer, making sure to blink as he looks at her, “I’ve never felt this way about a woman before; never felt the **need** to make an effort. Will you go out to dinner with me?”

Dolores stares wide eyed at Happy, feeling breathless as his whiskey smooth voice tugs at her gut and makes her face grow hot. Happy wants to go out on a date with her…Happy is in her kitchen admitting to her that she is the first woman _ever_ to make him want this way. She swallows through a dry throat and watches as he blinks calmly at her.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Bro's helping out Bro's to get the girl is always friendship goals. 
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> 1\. Se callan los dos- the both of you shut up  
> 2\. Masa- Maseca corn flour   
> 3\. Loli, se te esta enfriando la comida. Invita a tu amigo a comer- Loli, you're food is getting cold. Invite your friend to come and eat  
> 4\. Ma, el no tiene hambre, ademas ya se va - Mom, he isn't hungry, besides he's leaving  
> 5\. Mierda- shit  
> 6\. Mija- a shortened slang fro daughter   
> 7\. Santo Dios, ayudame- Holy God, help me


	3. Dreaming of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax raised his brows in shock, “Does she have your number?” Seeing the head shake Jax couldn’t stop the heavy sigh from escaping him. “So what you’re telling me is that you haven’t spoken to Vane in almost a month. She doesn’t know that you went to visit your mother to take care of her, and she doesn’t know that you want to see her again.”
> 
> “Why would I need to call her if I know where she lives?” Happy asked in a way guileless tone. 
> 
> Another heavy sigh, “Oh boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Dreaming of You by Cigarettes After Sex
> 
> Also I had to edit this chapter because for some reason my brain thought star grazing and stargazing were one and the same.

“Ma says that you have a booooooyfrieeeeend.”

Dolores cursed as she finished cleaning out the stalls in the barn. “What are you doing here?”

Beatriz, who had been the baby in the family before the twins dethroned her at the tender age of seven, was leaning against the fences with a too wide grin. “Been working OT for a while at the hospital, was told by my Lead to get the fuck out and rest for four days before coming back in. Thought I’d come and visit, and what do I come home to? Chisme! You shoulda seen Ma’s face when she told me all about this cholo. If only Antonia was here.”

Dolores scoffed as she made sure that all the stalls had fresh bedding before walking out with the rake. She looked out to the fenced in area and saw Madge, Juanita and Blossom out grazing, their lazy moos making her grin before she turned to flick her little sister off.

“Rude.” Beatriz said with a fox grin, not in the least insulted. “I should call Antonia up, see if she could take off early and come over.”

“No, Antonia is a bit too high strung right now with classes.” Dolores remembered the crazed look in her sisters eyes when she last saw her, a shoe thrown at her for breathing too hard while Antonia was studying.

“Which is exactly why we need a girls night!”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bitch why you lying?” Beatriz nagged as she followed her older sister.

Dolores shook her head and hosed off the muck from her boots and hands, glancing at Beatriz when she was done. 

Beatriz was shorter than Dolores, eyes like their father but almost a near carbon copy of their mother- all curves and plump cheeks. She had went off to Lodi to get her license as an EMT-P, and had gotten hired by the hospital in the city quickly. Her little sister kept crazy hours and ate horrendously, much to their Mother's horror, all junk food and sleep deprivation. She had permanent dark circles and a full figure that belied her strength. Beatriz had grown up working the farm like Dolores had, like they all had, and working as a paramedic had Beatriz lifting patients all the live long day.

“C’mon, you know you want to vent. I mean who you gonna tell your dirty thoughts to? _Mom_?” Beatriz asked with an exaggerated sniff.

“Urgh, okay. I remember why I liked you better living in Lodi.” Dolores said with a smile.

Beatriz flicked her off, laughing as she dug her phone out with her free hand. Fingers tapping the screen quickly she sent off a text to their sister and told Dolores to wash off the cow stink. By the time Dolores had showered, dressed and braided her hair, the noise in the house had risen with Antonia’s arrival.

Antonia had taken after their paternal grandmother. Tall, slender and pale with high cheekbones and fine brown hair. She was wearing her nursing scrubs and had a duffle bag with her as she stood gossiping with their Mother.

“Shower’s free.” Dolores said to her little sister by a year and a half.

Antonia turned and gave a filthy grin at her older sister, hazel eyes narrowed in delight.

Dolores sighed with a grimace and ignored Antonia’s snickering as she walked past.

“Ama told us all about this cholo that brought you flowers and took you out to dinner.” Antonia said in a teasing voice, not waiting for her sister to reply as she gracefully stepped into the bathroom.

“And it begins.” Dolores uttered grimly as she gathered her fortitude to face the oncoming interrogation.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell us everything.” Antonia said before chugging all her wine.

Beatriz was eagerly cutting into a steak, a lager sitting coldly to her right, eyes trained on Dolores.

“It’s nothing too exciting.” Dolores said with a roll of her eyes.

“Stop stalling and spill.” Beatriz snapped before stuffing a piece of her steak in her mouth.

“I met him at St. Thomas when I went in to get checked out.”

“You drove all the way to _Charming_? Why didn’t you just go to Dr. Johnson or even Lodi?” Antonia asked around a seasoned fry, eyes scanning the diner that she had waitressed in when she was a teenager.

“Because by the time I would have finished the appointment the whole town would have known I was there, and I don’t know I just went to Charming because it was close. The paranoia was too great.” Dolores admitted feeling guilt swirl in her stomach, but not enough to put her off eating the hamburger she had ordered.

“Okay, so you go to Charming,” Beatriz says after washing down her food with her beer, “looking like death warmed over no doubt-”

“Hey!” Dolores cut in offended.

“-And this cholo was there and saw you and thought, ‘ya know I like the way that female looks’?” Beatriz continued saying, ignoring her sisters affronted expression.

“First of all, he isnt a cholo,” Dolores said quickly before Antonia could throw in her two cents, “he isnt even Mexican.”

Beatriz and Antonia share a Look before taking a long sip from their drinks.

“He’s, well I don’t know what he is but his Spanish is atrocious. He’s more American than anything. He’s in a motorcycle club.” Dolores mentions casually and forces herself not react as her sisters share another Look.

“Oh,” Antonia says with faked disinterest.

“What’s his club name?” Beatriz asks with as much subtlety as a bull.

“…I don’t actually know. His patch says Nomad, whatever that means.”

“Means that he’s not affiliated with a chapter, he can move to any chapter of the club and have the same rights as a member but not the right to cast a vote.” Beatriz said with a narrowing of her eyes. “Did his vest show the club he’s allied with?”

Dolores squinted at her sister and shrugged, not seeing the harm in letting them know Happy’s patches. The man wore them where everyone could see after all. “Only had three patches on his vest, Sons of Anarchy, Unholy Ones, Nomads.”

Beatriz frowned, expression searching, “I’ve heard of the Sons of Anarchy. They’re allied to the MC in Lodi, the Grim Bastards.”

Antonia shrugged, “Never seen a member come through the ER.”

“Heard anything bad?” Dolores asked.

Beatriz shrugged, “Not so much, just that no one messes with them, the streets are tight lipped about it.”

Dolores hummed, “Well he didn’t seem bad. He’s quiet, very straight to the point, but he can be surprisingly sweet.”

“Ah, yes the infamous bouquet.” Antonia said with lecherous grin and wiggling eyebrows. “Heard he even came to dinner and washed the dishes. I legit thought I was going to have to sedate Ama by how excited she got.”

Dolores rolled her eyes, “Ma gets too excited over everything. Remember the Winking incident?”

Beatriz gave a tortured groan, “How could I forget. Ma brings it up every time she sees me.”

Antonia grinned slowly, “Luckily with your cholo Ama will forget about finding us boyfriends.”

“That’s right, thanks Loli for taking one for the team.” Beatriz agreed, raising her glass along with Antonia and saluting their older sister.

“First of all, we’re not novios. We just went out to dinner two weeks ago. I haven’t seen him, or talked to him since.” Dolores couldn’t help but point out stiffly.

“Ah bitterness doesn’t become you,” Antonia pointed out with a smirk, enjoying this too much.

“We’re not in el rancho Loli, call him.” Beatriz felt the need to say even as she chewed.

Dolores gave her a look of disgust, “Can you stop chewing like a cow you heathen.”

Beatriz responded with a smile and flipping her the finger.

“I don’t know where he lives, and I don’t have his phone number.” Dolores conceded.

“Living on the farm has turned you into an idiot.” Antonia said bluntly before signaling their waitress to top of her wine glass again.

“You lived there to not too long ago asshole.” Dolores said with a scowl.

Antonia ignored her as she smiled at the waitress holding the wine bottle.

“What Toni means to say,” Beatriz said as she systematically demolished her plate, “is that you were such a go getter when you were younger. The Loli we know wouldn’t have just let a man that brought her flowers and washed the damn dishes go without getting his digits. The farm has made you soft. Next you’ll be making cheese and crocheting a blanket like a good little Mexican.”

“What’s wrong with crocheting? It’s a peaceful pastime.” Dolores defended as she began to feel hunted by the twin looks of disappointment that her sisters sported.

“Santo Dios, it’s already started.” Antonia said as she made the sign of the cross.

“We’ve been away too long.” Beatriz said with such gloom, expression contrite. “She’s had no one but cows, chickens and the twins for company. I accept responsibility.”

Dolores couldn’t remember the last time she had rolled her eyes so hard.

“Ama says that you dress like Apa now. That when she went into your closet to help you, because you need help, that all you had was flannel, jeans and more flannel.” Antonia said with despair.

“It’s comfortable.” Dolores said with a shrug.

“Tell me you didn’t go dressed like this to your date?” Beatriz said as she pushed aside her empty plate.

Dolores looked at herself, clean jeans and one of her nicer flannel shirts loose to show a tank under. Looking up with a curious brow she was audience to her sisters round of pained grunts.

“We’ve failed you,” Antonia wailed, cheeks flushed with her third glass of wine, “ _I’ve_ failed you.”

“Gracias a Dios that I’m here for the next couple of days,” The youngest of the three said as she raised her empty cup in the air, “we need an urgent trip the mall, a full make-over and I shudder to even think about the state of your feet.” Beatriz said with an exaggerated tremor.

“My feet are fine dammit.” Dolores snapped even as a grin tugged at her lips. The truth was that she was glad that her sisters were here. Beatriz was right Dolores had gone soft in regards of conquest.

“Oh I do love make-overs.” Antonia practically sang.

Beatriz’s face contorted as she remembered how her sister had used her like her personal Barbie when they were younger, “Yes, we know.” Beatriz's attention was snatched when the waitress placed a full cup of lager in front of her.

“But,” Antonia said, blithely ignoring Beatriz, “you never told us how dinner went?”

“Did he kiss you goodnight?” Beatriz said with raunchy grin the second the waitress left.

“Did he cop a feel?” Antonia added with her trademark smirk.

“Did _you_ invite _him_ in for coffee?”

“Did _he_ invite _you_ for coffee?”

“Where’d he take you?”

“Oh God, does he eat like Triz?”

“Fuck you Toni, but did he?”

“Is he built?”

“What about his ass?”

“What color are his eyes?”

“Please tell me that _you_ at least copped a feel.”

“Well, don’t just sit there, tell us.” Antonia snapped with an intense look, leaning forward with a sharp look.

“I would if you bitches let me talk.” Dolores shot back. “He took me to an Italian restaurant in Charming, food was really good. He’s got a mother in Bakersfield, battling cancer. No siblings, no father. Mainly asked about me, and when we left we walked around in the park. Held my hand as he talked about how his family was his club. After the ride back home he did kiss me, hands staying above the belt and that was that.”

In truth Dolores could tell that Happy had wanted to put his hand down her pants, but had held back. It was odd, because Dolores had been expecting him to grope her, but not an unpleasant surprise. He did kiss her like he wanted to suck the very air from her lungs.

Happy was a greedy kisser, selfish and unapologetic. Biting and sinuous tongue that had Dolores digging her nails into his waist. He had left her wanting, and by the satisfied look in his eyes he knew it.

“ _Oh_ ,” Antonia said knowingly, “I know that look.”

“Must have been one hella kiss.” Beatriz jeered.

 

* * *

 

 

“How’d it go?” Jax asked as they stood to the side of a hot dog stand.

Happy had just come back from Bakersfield, three weeks spent taking care of his Momma. He told her about Dolores, knowing that his Momma wouldn’t tease him. 

Just thinking about her had Happy remembering the end of their date. It had taken everything in him not to push her up against the wall and fuck her. Happy wasn’t a man to deny himself anything, but he had read in one of the magazines that Jax had given him that putting out on the first date gave the wrong idea. Happy had been tempted to burn the magazine but as he read on he had ultimately decided to give it a shot.

So he had brought his best rated PG manners and watched as Dolores squirmed when he pulled away. He drank in the sight of her lust filled eyes and the red of her mouth. Happy never would have thought that loose flannel shirts and relaxed jeans could be so sexy. He found himself wanting to unwrap her, like a present. Sure stanky outfits still caught his eye, but where was the mystery of it all? The Crow Eaters never left him guessing at what he would find under.

Cosmo had opened him to a world that Happy had never even realized existed.

Before he left, paying the nurse aide the next installment, his Momma had cradled his face and kissed his cheeks.

_“You bring that girl home Happy, I’ll tell you if she’s a good one or not.”_

The long drive up, and a night’s rest, still hadn’t given Happy a decision about that.

Feeling Jax’s gaze on him Happy shrugged, “It went alright.”

Jax waited for the enforcer to elaborate but was left to witness Happy take a bite from his hot dog and a questioning brow thrown his way. “You always amaze me Hap with your detailed answers.”

“We went out, ate, talked, took her back home, made out and I left.” Happy ended up saying before finishing his hot dog in two large bites.

“You didn’t fuck her?” Jax asked surprised.

“Didn’t want her thinking that I was easy or that that was all I was looking for in a relationship.” Happy said as he threw away his trash.

Jax bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing like a fool. That sounded way too similar to the magazine he’d given Hap. Instead Jax somberly nodded; thankful he had his shades on to hide his eyes. “Keep her hooked man, that’ll make her feel like she isnt just a sweet butt. You get her number?”

Happy shook his head as he looked out to the quiet quaint streets of Charming.

Jax frowned, “Do you already _have_ her number?”

Happy gave Jax a Look, “No.”

Jax raised his brows in shock, “Does she have _your_ number?” Seeing the head shake Jax couldn’t stop the heavy sigh from escaping him. “So what you’re telling me is that you haven’t spoken to Vane in almost a month. She doesn’t know that you went to visit your mother to take care of her, and she doesn’t know that you want to see her again.”

“Why would I need to call her if I know where she lives?” Happy asked in a way guileless tone.

Another heavy sigh, “Oh boy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dolores was at the mall, by herself this time, trying on some pants that were not at all suitable for farm work when her cell phone started to ring. Distractedly reaching for it, eyes glued to her reflection to see if she liked how it looked on her, she swiped to answer and said an absent-minded hello.

“That boy is here.”

Dolores froze, body half twisted so she could glance at her butt better, and her stomach cramped with nerves. Playing it cool she said, “Who?”

“No te hagas, Dolores Socorro, bien sabes de quien estoy hablando.” Lucinda told her flatly.

Dolores eased herself upright and sat down on the little bench in the corner of the dressing room. Staring at her reflection, Dolores felt a cold cutting anger flow through her. Happy had been MIA for almost a month. No word, no message hell Dolores would have settled for a letter. She had spent those weeks with her nerves in a knot, spending money on new clothes to impress him and all for a man who couldn’t be bothered to let her know a word about him. She wasn’t just some woman that he could come to when he felt like and find her waiting like an over eager puppy. “Well, I’m at the mall and I’m nowhere near in finishing here.”

“What do I tell him?”

Dolores was angry, and she had a right to be dammit, but she also ached for him. She wanted Happy, but she also wanted to punch him in the face and make him bleed for essentially dumping her in limbo. She wanted to be brazen, take what she wanted, but she also wanted to be wooed. She wanted to get flowers and she wanted for Happy to make a fucking effort.

“The truth,” Dolores ended up saying woodenly, “I’m not at home. Don’t tell him where I am, and ask if he wants me to call him.” Never mind the fact that she didn’t even have a phone number. She wondered what he say to her Ma.

“Ok, mija.” Lucinda said softly before hanging up.

Dolores lowered her phone and closed her eyes, hand going to her suture free wound. Dr. Knowles hadn't been around when she had gone back to get the stitches gone. The nurses suggested a  cream for scars, but that she really didn't need it since Wallace had done a great job. The scar was thin and was now only tender, like a bruise, but Dolores found herself palming it in a weird form of comfort. Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled sharply and stood, determined to take her time at the mall and not rush home like a hormone crazed fool.

Dolores had made her move, now it was up to Happy.

 

* * *

 

 

Happy stalked through the clubhouse in a dark foul mood. He ignored Bobby who had just come out from the kitchen, flour clinging to his shirt, and paid no mind to Jax and Opie giving him a questioning look. He stalked down the hallway and quietly opened the door and just as quietly closed it. Standing in silence, eyes closed tightly feeling the dark rage that was always simmering at the pit of his stomach spike, Happy held himself still until he could trust himself not to break everything in the room.

When his hands were no longer shaking Happy slowly opened his eyes and left the room. Walking into the common area, he scooped out the place and saw that Jax was sitting with Opie at the bar, Bobby banging about in the kitchen. Coming to the decision that he needed all the help he could get, Happy sat down at the bar and glared at the wall.

Opie and Jax shared a Look before the former decided to bite the bullet. “You good Hap?”

“No.”

Opie tapped the counter with indecision for a second before leaning closer, “Anything we can help with?”

Happy turned to look at him in a sharp movement, “It’s not a good sign if your potential woman’s mother tells you that she’s not home and won’t be home soon and that maybe you should have expressed your interest more instead of fucking off for three weeks and then expecting for her to wait around for you because she may have moved on, is it?”

Jax whistled in appreciation while Opie widened his eyes.

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Happy said with gritted teeth.

“Did you tell her, the woman, that you were fucking off for three weeks?” Opie can’t help but ask.

Happy stays silent, glaring at the wall harder.

“You didn’t.” Opie surmises quickly. “Did you call her?”

Happy gives Opie an acidic look.

Jax can only shake his head, unsurprised. Vane looked like the type of woman not to put up with any shit. Why would her mother be any different?

“Hap,” Opie starts, unwillingly amused and interested in this turn of events, “does she even have your number?”

“No. I didn’t think it was important since I know where she lives.” Happy snapped out.

“What else did the mother say?” Jax intervened before Opie could ask another question.

“That if I wasn’t serious about Dolores that I should just fuck off and not mess around with her.” Happy admitted after a long beat of silence.

“And if you are serious?” Opie asks.

“Then that I should come to the house every day until Dolores **_deems_** it the right time to talk to me.” Happy confesses with a bitter twist.

“Well are you?” Opie asks, Happy and his problems pushing back his own.

Happy sizes him up before suddenly slumping forward, “Yes.”

“Well then I say the next step is a no brainer. You’re going to have to grovel.” Opie says with a hearty slap to the enforcers back, “Welcome to the club Hap.”

“How was I supposed to know that I had to ask for her phone number?” Happy asked in genuine confusion.

“How could you not Hap? It’s dating one-oh-one.” Opie says with shock.

“I’ve never dated anyone. Willing pussy was always there when I wanted it.” Happy couldn’t help but point out.

Opie glanced at Jax, who looked like he had heard that reasoning too many times for it to be new, before putting in his two cents. “Hap, Old Ladies are different.”

“Yeah, I gathered that fucking much.”

“What’s her name?” Opie asked, curious.

“Dolores Vane. She lives up north by Lodi, small town and has a small barn.” Happy supplies as he leans his forehead on the counter.

“So she’s a farmer?” Opie can’t help but say with bemusement.

Happy stiffened at the perceived insult and glared at his brother, “Because fucking a porn star is better?”

Opie narrowed his eyes, “She won’t be one for long.”

Happy scoffed, not seeing at how Jax was squeezing the bridge of his nose, “Please, you’re fooling yourself if you think that cokehead is going to stop eating pussy for cash.”

Seeing how Opie tensed up Jax stepped in between the two, “Okay enough. Opie, don’t be a dick because Hap likes a farmer. Hap, don’t be a dick to Opie because he’s fucking a porn star.”’

Both Happy and Opie notice that Jax doesn’t say anything about Lyla being a coke head.

“Now,” Jax says as he crosses his arms, “how about we brainstorm to help you with Vane? We don’t need you biting everyone’s head off Hap.”

Opie stays silent, glaring at Happy before he looks away, “Stargazing.”

Jax and Happy both turn to look at Opie with questioning looks.

“Whenever,” Opie starts, his voice gruff and expression distant, “we used to fight, I’d take Donna stargazing to make-up. Leave the kids with my Mom and take the car out with a blanket and a cooler. We’d stretch out, no one for miles, and just talk as we looked at the stars. Never stayed mad long.”

Jax gives Happy a look that says that he even dares to mouth off he’d beat him bloody.

Happy lowers his eyes and makes a grateful noise, “Thank you Opie.”

The sincerity in Happy’s voice manages to pull Opie out from the past and brings out a small grin. “Hey what kind of a wingman would I be if I can’t help you win the girl?”

 

* * *

 

 

Happy, she was told, had been coming by every day for the past week. Dolores couldn’t help but be intrigued that he had actually listened to her Ma and try to prove that his interest in her was serious. Unfortunately, Dolores had been out all the times that he would come by. Not on purpose, but she was always out doing deliveries when he came by. Their store was one of the main stores in their small town, which had a population of three hundred, and some houses were out in the hills like hers. The majority were also older people. Dolores had added the delivery service, for a small charge, and their profits had nearly doubled.

So every time she was out delivering goods, her Ma would call her and tell her that ‘that boy is here’. Dolores wouldn’t let her give Happy her cell phone number, still feeling petty and hurt at the three week radio silence.

Today was no different. Dolores had a large order to deliver to Mrs. Oakwood, a little old lady with puffy white hair and a pack of dogs that snarled at anyone who even looked at their owner odd, who lived on the outskirts of town. Halfway there her phone rang and Dolores answered it.

“Your boy is here.” Beatriz had five days off since she had worked a full three weeks before with no down time. “Ma is outside with him, but by the look of her and him she’s giving him another shovel talk.”

Dolores bit her lip and groaned as she turned into Mrs. Oakwood’s long dirt road driveway. “I love Ma, but she sometimes does more harm than good.”

“I could run interference.”

“Yes please.” Dolores pleaded. “I’m barely getting to Mrs. Oakwood. Tell him he can wait or come back later.”

“Cholo is not happy at all by what Ma said. My God Loli, I didn’t know you liked them tall, dark and rabid.” Beatriz said with a grin.

“He’s not a cholo.” Dolores said weakly as she parked in front of the old house, dogs barking in the background.

“Yeah well, Ma says to stop being a bitch and finally talk to him before he gets tired of you.” Beatriz told her with a chuckle.

“I had planned to drive to Charming and look him up by the end of the week.” Dolores admitted.

“You are not going without me!” Beatriz practically yelled with glee.

“Listen I gotta go, Mrs. Oakwood is coming out of her house.” Dolores said as she opened the truck door.

Hanging up, Dolores stared at her cell phone for a second wondering if Happy would wait or if he would leave. Truthfully, Dolores didn’t know which one she wanted and that just made her annoyed with herself.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ama, hable con Loli. Yo me encargo en darle el mensaje al muchacho.”

Happy looked to the side and saw a younger, paler blue eyed version of Lucinda. This woman was all hips, ass and tits. Pouty lips, round cheeks and dark waves. Shorter than Dolores, but not enough to be considered short herself. There was no denying that she was a looker, but Happy was coming to realize that if it wasn’t Dolores it wasn’t getting him up. Even so he waited, because he recognized Dolores nickname, and watched as Lucinda gave him a hard look before walking into the house. Alone with the newcomer on the front porch Happy withstood the slow sizing up that she was doing.

What he was not expecting was the filthy grin.

“So,” she said as she eyed him up and down once more, “you’re the guy. Tell me, is your name really Happy?”

Happy usually didn’t feel intimated by anyone, but this woman was eyeing him like a piece of meat. “Yeah. Happy Lowman.” He introduced.

“Beatriz, I’m Dolores little sister.” Beatriz said as she slowly took the stairs down to his level. “Gotta say, when she spoke about you I was not expecting you to look like you do. I thought bikers where more hairy and bandana wearing.” Beatriz of course was lying, she had seen bikers of varying looks in the back of an ambulance, but she liked needling people when off duty.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, trust me,” Beatriz said with a slow grin, “you’re not disappointing anyone. At least not now if you play your cards right.” And just like that the grin faded and Beatriz face rippled into a cold mask. “See no one blows my sister off for three weeks and comes back like nothing happened.”

Happy was beginning to feel irritated. He didn’t need to be told again that he had hurt Dolores feelings. Shit, if he’d ever get to fucking see her again he’d fucking explain why he went fucking MIA and why he neglected to fucking give her his cell.

Shit.

Taking a deep breath to control his anger, Happy exhaled slowly and cocked his head at Beatriz. He supposed he’d give her this freebie. They were sisters after all, and family looked out for each other after all. “Like I told your Mother, I’ll explain to Dolores.”

Beatriz eyed the cholo that had her sister all in knots and found that she liked him. Or to be clearer, she liked the vibe he was giving off. He didn’t feel like bullshit. Besides Loli really liked him, even if she tried to put up a front. Anyone who could get Dolores to leave the farm and head to the mall to get non-farm clothes was someone to keep an eye on. So she did what any self-respecting awesome sister would do, she did an assist. “Listen, Loli's out doing deliveries for the people in town that are too old, or too busy, to come into town. She said to tell you to wait or to come back another day, but,” and here Beatriz gave a conspiratorial smile, “I say surprise her.”

“How?” Happy asked, somewhat relieved that he had a fledging ally.

“Move your bike to the back of the house, or even into the barn where she won’t see it. Come into the house, relax inside, and when she comes home and doesn’t see your bike she’ll be sad that you didn’t wait. That’ll make her sad for a bit, but once she steps inside and sees you her expression is going to be priceless.”

Happy didn’t even have to time to respond seeing as Beatriz got swept up into her own damn excitement and plotting, fearlessly reaching for him with a remarkably strong grip for someone almost a foot shorter than him.

Were all the women in this family unusually strong?

By the end his ears ringing with the excited chatter of Beatriz, arm pulsing from being manhandled around the farm, before Happy found himself sitting in the kitchen, with a plate of food as the rest of the Vane family tried to out talk each other, dazed and confused about everything. He had seen Alexander and one of the twins file in and out quickly to grab food and leave for quieter pastures as Charles and Beatriz gave sharp loud barks of laughter while Lucinda flipped tortillas.

Beatriz was in the middle of laughing when she suddenly went still, reminding Happy of a dog that picked up a sound outside. Eerily she turned to Happy and ominously said, “She’s here.”

Charles, having almost swallowed his tacos whole, stood and went to the living room. He gave Happy a salute, cheeks bugling with food as his Mother yelled at him to chew.

Happy distantly heard the front door open, Dolores calling out a greeting sounding small...and did she sound disappointed? He chanced a glance to the side and saw Beatriz almost vibrating in her chair and Lucinda turned back to the stove moving too cautiously to be real.

Heart starting to pound with nerves, because he hadn’t seen her in a month, he counted the booted footsteps and felt his stomach twist as he heard them falter suddenly. He didn’t move to look at her, instead calmly grabbing a taco and taking a bite. He didn’t want to let on just how nervous he was, it was bad enough that he was nervous at all. What ever happened to the good old days where a female didn’t get him all strung up?

“Hey Loli,” Beatriz said in a smug voice, breaking the sudden silence, “look who decided to stay and have dinner with us?”

“Mija,” Lucinda said too casually before clasping a hand around Beatriz' arm and hauling her out of the kitchen, “I left your plate in the micro. Here’s some fresh tortillas.”

Soon they were alone, the front door opening and closely quietly.

Happy was suddenly glad that he had listened to Lucinda’s advice since it got him both hers and Beatriz’s alliance in helping him to corner Dolores. Comfortable in the knowledge that no one was in the house besides them Happy relaxed and finished his tacos, pausing to take a sip of the cold Corona that Lucinda had set before him.

God bless that woman.

He was picking up another taco when suddenly she appeared before him. Flannel shirt and work stained jeans. Curled hair held back by a hair clip and slightly chapped lips.

Happy felt a sharp, almost painful, tightening within him, a hunger rise up that threatened to leave him breathless and hard; he had missed her. Like an ache that ghosted through his senses and memory. The enforcer watched as she stiffly moved about the kitchen, eyes flickering to him every other second as if she feared that he would disappear on her again.

They both ate in silence, the tacos too good to not eat right there and then. When they finished it was as if someone had rung a soundless bell.

“You have some fucking nerve to just waltz in here like you didn’t drop off the face of the earth for a month.” Dolores said with false composure.

“Three weeks.” Happy pointed out, not being to help himself. The second he said it though he knew he shouldn’t have. It was like watching a train wreck, the composure slipping off Dolores to reveal a festering darkness that was made of hurt and anger. He didn’t flinch or blink as he watched her push back the chair, the wooden legs screeching across the floor, and lunge across the table. Strong fingers grabbed his shirt and hauled him forward to where Dolores was snarling at him.

“Now isn’t the time to nitpick.” Dolores fumed.

Even though Happy had made peace with the fact that he was just like any other bastard that went stupid over a girl, wasn’t **_that_** stupid to let anyone treat him like a pussy. It wasn’t in him to take things lying down.

Besides, Dolores spitting mad at him got him going.

Happy latched onto her wrist, tightening until he could see the first pinpricks of pain in her eyes, and pulled them both to the side. The force of it, and their combined weight, had them stumbling into the wall and sliding to the floor. It was like someone had opened a door and a wild animal set loose. Happy felt Dolores land a solid punch to his side that flared pain across his nerves. Happy was so turned on at the struggle he had with holding her down. Blood singing with adrenaline, Happy twisted them onto the floor and spent the next long minutes trying to pin her down without hurting her. Dolores hurting him was another story. A sharp brutal elbow to the face had him tasting blood, and his sides were feeling tender.

He couldn’t help the rapturous laugh that bubbled out from him. Happy lived for this, the heat of the fight, the pain that let him know that he was alive. His knuckles ached but he wasn’t thinking of fighting, he was thinking of flipping her on her back and pinning her down and having her at his mercy. His teeth ached with the heavy want to mark her up, sink his fangs into the juncture of her neck, on her chest, on her tit. He wanted to lick her scar, drag his teeth across it to see if it had any sensitivity.

Happy wanted to leave bruises of his own making on her skin.

Breathing hard, his dick pressing up against his jeans and her back, Happy didn’t resist pushing his hips up against her. “You feel that?” He snarled into her hair, smelling the clean scent of her shampoo mixed with the outdoors. “You really think that anyone can get me this hard? Can have me coming to their house every fucking day just to see them?”

Dolores made a dangerous sound as she kicked a leg back, delighting in the pained grunt from Happy as she connected with his shin. “If that were true you why did you fuck off for three weeks. Why didn’t you let me know instead of leaving me in the dark?”

Happy tightened his hold on her, not stopping the moan that seemed to be ripped from his lungs as she grinded back on him. “I went to take care of my Momma in Bakersfield. Didn’t think to tell you, never had anyone to tell. Figured I’d come to see you and explain, didn’t think that you’d take it the wrong way.”

Dolores struggled once more, but Happy had his powerful legs wrapped around her and his arms wrapped tight against her chest and arms. Thinking on what he said she slowly stopped fighting, her cutting rage sluggishly leaving her. Panting she let all her weight rest against Happy, knowing that he could take it. “Communication Happy, work on it; I’m not a mind reader, how I was supposed to know that you were going to take care of your Mother?”

“Yeah, trust it’s not going to happen again. Not with your ass avoiding me as payback.” Happy growled lazily as he thrust up against her back, nose buried in her hair.

“I wasn’t actively avoiding you, I was working. You would have known that if you had asked for my number.”

“I’m asking now.”

“No you’re not, you’re just demanding,” Dolores said as she pushed back into him, “but you’re lucky that I like you because I’ll let it slide this time.”

Happy loosened one arm, confidant that Dolores wouldn’t try to knock him out, and gave into the itch that had been nagging him since he’d seen her in that fitted shirt. He dragged his hand down her arm and hungrily palmed her tit.

“ _Happy_.” Dolores gasped as she arched up into his hand before grinding back down on him.

Happy groaned huskily at the softness, at the pressure of her ass, and eagerly let his other hand trail down her front only to cup her greedily. He drank in her moan as she pushed up into his hand, the denim of her jean rubbing his skin.

“Happy, stop.” Dolores panted and with her now free arms managed to push herself off him. Turning she gave him a dark ravenous look.

Happy felt his dick jump at the sight of her; eyes black with desire and mouth open to breathe in lungful gasps of air, “Why are we stopping?” Because he had been blue balling for about two months now.

“Because we’re in my Mother’s kitchen with my family a couple of feet away from us.” Dolores told him stiffly before getting to her feet.

Happy let his head fall back to the fall, in a soft thump, and groaned out his displeasure.

“So, did you only come by to say you’re sorry and get my number?” Dolores asked primly as she straightened out her clothes.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go stargazing, but what I really want to do is fuck.” Happy said truthfully. Dolores had said that he needed to work on communication.

“Stargazing?” Dolores said with a hopeful tenor.

And just like that Happy had been cockblocked by stars that were light years away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the sweet wonders of awkward first timers wading through the dangerous waters of dating. Just like Happy has his Bro's, Dolores needs her Sisters. 
> 
> EMT-P is basically a Paramedic. Info from Wiki. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> 1\. Chisme- gossip  
> 2\. Ama- Mom  
> 3\. Apa- Dad  
> 4\. Novios- boyfriend and girlfriend  
> 5\. El rancho- a saying to mean back in their hometown in Mexico where the customs are antique  
> 6\. No te hagas, Dolores Socorro, bien sabes de quien estoy hablando- Don't play stupid, Dolores Socorro, you know well who I'm talking about  
> 7\. Ama, hable con Loli. Yo me encargo en darle el mensaje al muchacho- Mom, I spoke with Loli. I'll handle in giving the young man the message
> 
> FYI- I never liked Lyla, Opie deserved better.


	4. What's up People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The bodies,” Beatriz says as her hand begins to shake, adrenaline burning off fast, “they’ll be missed. I know that club, Calaveras. One of them was on the phone when Dolores killed him. No doubt they let the rest know or worse, they’ll call in the Mayans.” Beatriz narrows her eyes, “This happened because of you and your fucking club, fix it.” With that Beatriz lowers the gun, flicks the safety on and goes to back to the truck the bearded man with the beanie dismounting and trailing after her slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by What's up People by Maximum the Hormone. (the original Japanese version for Death Note)
> 
> Don't know what they're saying, but the FEELING of the song made me think of this.

Dolores was standing in front of her closet indecisive at what to wear. Beatriz was here at the farm, being annoying as usual. Once her little sister found out that Dolores was heading to Charming for a cookout, she had invited herself. Not wanting to deal with Beatriz’s nagging, or her mother’s narrowed eyed look about taking her sister, Dolores had given in. Sighing helplessly, Dolores picked out a pair of fitted jeans and a pretty off the shoulder loose blouse. Decision made Dolores went to shower and had just taken off her shirt when Beatriz stormed into the bathroom like an enraged bull.

“I gotta pee!” Beatriz whined, pushing Dolores to the side and frantically tearing at her zipper.

Dolores didn’t have time to cover herself since she was too busy trying to save herself from hitting the shower tile. Managing to stop her fall, Dolores heard the relieved sigh and peeing in surround sound. Having grown up fighting for the bathroom had desensitized her and her siblings from scenes like this; only back then she didn’t have a scar to hide.

“What the fuck is that?” Beatriz asked with no shame as she kept peeing.

Dolores sighed, hand covering her scar, as she turned to look at Beatriz sitting on the toilet looking ridiculous. “It’s a scar.”

“Yeah, I got that asshole. What I mean is how did you get it?” Beatriz asked before a thunderous expression darkened her face. “Did Happy-”

“No! God, Happy would never hurt me.” Dolores cut in fiercely.

Beatriz stayed quiet for a second, jaw grinding before she spat out, “Explain.”

Dolores didn't really want to but in end shrugged and threw caution to the wind. She told Beatriz about the break-in, about the murders, about going to Charming, about covering it up, and about how Happy had tracked her down; how he and his ‘brother’ helped her because Happy had been creepily impressed with her.

As she spoke, Dolores watched Beatriz’s expression fall inch by inch into a mask of disbelief.

“Dolores what have you done?” Beatriz asks with a haunted expression. “How,” she starts before she stops to take a harsh, “How did this even happen, Dolores you covered up a crime! What the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you call the authorities? And worse, you let some thug come and get rid of the evidence!”

“They were going to kill me! This is the souvenir I got because I fought back! There wasn’t time to call the cops, or what did you want me to tell them to wait so that I could make a phone call? It all happened too fast! Did you want me to just lay there and take it? Let them gut me like a fish so Ma and Pa could find me lying there on the grass?” Dolores had snarled at her sister, crowding her against the toilet.

“You should have called when you first heard something!”

“Don’t be so stupid Beatriz! It was a noise, like any other that we’ve heard around the farm, I didn’t think nothing of it. I’m lucky to be alive, and that’s because I was paranoid enough to bring the shot gun. If I had gone out unarmed God knows what those two men would have done to me.” Dolores explains as she glares down at her sister.

Fuck!” Beatriz cursed in a furious whisper, lowering her head in her hands.

“There wasn’t time to call the police.” Dolores repeats, mainly to herself.

“You didn’t even think about calling them did you?”

Dolores jerks back, her sister’s judgment hitting her like a hammer to the chest. “After I had shot the second one, I was bleeding out. All I was worried about was stopping the blood, getting help as fast as I could. You’re saying that I should have stayed put and waited for an ambulance to get here, for _you_ to get here? Tell me how long would that have taken?”

Beatriz shakes her head, feeling useless and angry and needing to _do_ something, when a thought freezes her. "Happy...why did he help you get rid of the...evidence?"

Dolores scrunches up her face in confusion, "I told you, he was curious about me. Didn't like that I got hurt."

"So he and some stranger-"

"Jax."

"Jax, Max whoever the fuck," Beatriz hisses, "comes over and gets rids of the evidence just _because_?" Beatriz snorts loudly, leaning back on the toilet. "I call bullshit. No one does shit, especially that type of heavy shit, without wanting in return."

Feeling offended Dolores bares her teeth, "Happy didn't ask anything, neither did Jax. they just came and helped."

"One day, they're going to use that against you. Goddammit Dolores!" Beatriz shouted and instantly stiffened at the questioning shout that echoed down to them by their mother.

"They won't." Dolores promises, and if there's a small speck of doubt floating at the back of her mind-well no one will know but her.

Beatriz glares moodily at her sister before catching sight of the scar again. It’s long, morbidly elegant with its sleekness, and white. It healed nice, but Beatriz knows that a wound like that could have easily damaged her sister's internal organs. The blood loss alone was a worry, but if her organs had been nicked? Chances of her surviving were pitiful. Fact of the matter was, Beatriz was realizing, that Dolores could have _died._ Her big sister would have been dead and in the ground because two junkies had trespassed and jumped her while she was alone and sick.

Was being angry about _how_  Dolores survival worth it?

And just like that her anger left and was replaced by a shameful relief. Beatriz hated that Dolores had felt the need to cover up her self-defense instead of going to the authorities, had felt the need to end two lives that night, but Beatriz was first and foremost a Vane. That means something, something more important than being an upstanding member of society, more important than a couple of junkies.

Family over everything… **always**.

Beatriz reached up to touch the tattoo on her ribs, matching the one Dolores and Antonia got with her when Beatriz turned twenty-one in a drunken haze of sisterly bonding, before looking up at a grim faced Dolores. “Happy made sure that the bodies will never be found?” The words feeling bitter in her mouth.

Dolores gives a stiff nod, eyes wary as she looks at her sister.

Beatriz digs her nails into her Always tattoo and glares at the wall, “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll go to Charming and then me and Happy are going to have a nice long chat.”

Dolores can do nothing but nod, before kicking Beatriz out of the bathroom. Somehow, it feels like this is the beginning of something too big for her to control.

 

* * *

 

 

The cookout is being held at the clubhouse, and it isn’t hard to find the Teller-Morrow Garage; the rows of cars and motorcycles lining the street making it evident. Only the Vane sisters never make it to the party.

In fact, they never make it to Charming.

 

* * *

 

 

Happy can feel his annoyance slip into anger and then jarringly slide into a cold fear that he’d only ever felt when his Momma told him about the cancer. The cookout was officially over and the after party was starting, sweet butts everywhere and Old Ladies nowhere in sight.

He reaches for his cell to call Dolores phone, again, when Jax comes up to him.

“I called T.O.," Jax says casually, "asked him to keep an ear open for anything.”

Happy tightens his grip on the burner phone and gives a half assed nod. He palms his burner, standing separate from the rest of the club, and tries to keep his dark mood under control. It won’t do any good beating anyone’s ass to let off steam, not to mention that if-fuck if- anything _had_ gone down Happy’d need all his strength to fight. Breathing in slowly, feeling a darkness trying to swallow him whole from the inside, Happy sees Opie arguing with the porn star. He watches as Opie twists his face in a scowl before he walks away. Happy tracks his progress and ultimately decides to ignore him as Opie comes to a stand next to Jax.

“We riding?” Opie asks looking out to the street, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched tight. Opie knows all too well the cold grip that Happy is feeling, his brother doesn’t need empty assurances he needs action and another gun to back him up. Opie’s determined that Happy won’t suffer the same fate he did with Donna. Lyla and all their problems aren't important.

“Not yet, waiting on the GB to call.” Jax says in a hard tone. As if sensing the urgency his burner rings and Jax doesn’t waste a second in answering. What T.O. tells him makes his jaw tighten. “Got it, we’ll be there.” Hanging up Jax takes a moment to breathe before looking into the dark eyes of an enraged assassin. To most people that’s all they’d ever see, but Jax can see the fear buried underneath the rage. “T.O. says that there was a problem at a gas station. Shots fired. Doesn't know details but says his source told them that a truck was taken...a truck that had two women inside.”

Opie stands grim, watching Happy’s every move and that’s why he sees the small flash of pain before it’s hidden under a mountain of fury. He checks that he’s carrying, no question about whether he was going or not.

“He say anything else?” Happy rasps.

Jax pulls out his shades, sliding them on as he makes way to his bike. “Says that his source is pretty sure it was the Calaveras.”

Happy puts on his shades, focused on bringing death to the stupid mother fuckers who thought that they could touch what’s his and live. “Then I know who I’m going to burn.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dolores tongues the corner of her mouth and tastes blood. She doesn’t regret the bleeding cut, made when she got too mouthy with the guys abducting them. Funnily enough the Mexicans, which stings at her own Mexican pride that one of her own is doing this, stashes them inside a barn.

Dolores didn’t really know how things got so out of control so fast.

They were on their way to Charming when the truck chimed that it was low on fuel. With Beatriz giving her the cold shoulder, and Dolores returning said cold shoulder so that she wouldn’t show how much it hurt, the eldest Vane sister pulled into an exit that had announced a gas station. One second she was outside staring at the gas pump, jaw clenched against her hurt feelings, and the next she was facing down the barrel of gun.

In the madness that ensued, the cholo’s shot into the air to create chaos and had managed to hit a couple of people as the bullets rebounded off of the concrete. Dolores had frozen, fear chilling her, before she was manhandled back in the truck at gun point; once inside she saw that Beatriz was grim faced as she too had a gun nuzzled at the back of her head. Dolores was then told to drive and not to try anything funny. Miles later she was being tied to a post and being asked about Happy. Dolores had at that point shaken out of shock and told the cholo to fuck off. Turns out that being pistol whipped hurt like a bitch, thus the split lip.

And so here she was, looking about the barn with a too quiet Beatriz next to her. Dolores was thinking of a way out of this when Beatriz suddenly broke the silence.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Beatriz said calmly, eyes hard and bloodied lips pursed, “we’re going to go back to back so that you can reach into my pocket. They didn’t search us properly. Too focused on taking our phones, stupid of them but lucky for us.”

Dolores nods and shifts slowly, not wanting to make too much noise for the cholo’s to come inside and check, and slouches down until her hand touches something metal. “Okay I feel something.”

“Take it out; it’s the RescueTool Swiss army knife that I bought when I first got the job with the hospital. I never leave the house without it.” Beatriz says with a flatness that prickles Dolores senses.

Dolores follows her sister’s instructions, hands cramping with the odd angle but she finally manages to lift out the thick instrument. Beatriz being an EMT-P was literally life-saving. Working up the different selections, Dolores whispers a grateful _finally_ when she pulls out the small serrated knife from the compartment. Sawing through the binds the two sisters rub their reddened wrists and quickly walk around to find make-shift weapons.

Coming up with a game plan, Dolores makes a loud enough sound to attract their abductors. Cursing heard, Dolores watches as the wood door opens to let in a small fat man.

Dolores stands by the post, pretending that she's still tied up, watching intently as the man begins to curse at her as he gets closer. Spitting at him, anything to keep his attention firmly on her, Dolores watches with baited breath as Beatriz comes from behind and slams him over the head with the wooden handle of a hammer. Dolores surges forward and bends her knees, taking the unconscious man’s weight and slowly putting him down. The two sisters work quickly, finding rope in the barn and hog tying him to the post.

Dolores stares at his unconscious form for a minute before she moves. Grabbing his foot, she works off his Nike Cortez and pulls off a sock. Bunching it up, Dolores roughly stuffs it into his mouth, effectively gagging him.

Just in case.

Fumbling with his shirt, Dolores hands the gun to her sister and watches as Beatriz checks the clip of the gun before flicking off the safety. Grabbing the knife, Dolores says nothing about the implications of her sister cocking a gun, of what it means that Beatriz had taken off the safety.Beatriz has the look of vengeance on her, darkening her eyes and twisting her expression. It isnt until now that Dolores wonders just what happened in the time that it took for the cholo’s to bring Beatriz in after her.

Knife in hand Dolores stalks to the entrance of the barn and looks through the wooden slits. She can make out two men leaning against their bikes, shades on and looking bored, while the third is on the phone waving his hand about. Hearing faint footsteps Dolores turns to look at her sister.

Beatriz has her eyes closed, breathing in deeply, before she opens them in a snap. Blue eyes stare back at her with an aggression that Dolores recognizes. It’s the same look when she remembers the night that her life changed, almost half a year ago.Knowing that she can live with the lives she took is one thing, having her little go down that path-especially after the heavy handed judgment Beatriz had handed out-is a different one altogether. “I’m sure homeboy has a cell on him,” Dolores offers in a whisper, “we can call the cops. We’re not too far away.”

Beatriz stares at her, hand tightening on the gun, and says nothing for a long while until she whispers back brokenly. “It’s too late of that.”

Dolores closes her eyes, a wave of sadness nearly drowning her at the grim declaration, and sighs. Blinking her eyes open Dolores takes stock of her sister, trying to see just what those assholes did to her. In a matter seconds she sees. A split lip, a cut on the cheek, her ponytail in a disarray-as if someone had yanked her head, and darkening marks on her neck. As if someone had choked her.

In that moment Dolores knows that, just like back then, that things will never be the same again.

Taking a settling breath Dolores sends her sister a nod of acknowledgement and opens the door. Who would have thought that the summers spent at their Grandfather’s house, learning how to shoot and hunt would come in handy at a time like this?

Putting on a burst of speed honed by years of chasing after chickens and the twins, Dolores rushes forward and tackles the man talking on the phone. In one fluid movement she plunges the knife in his throat, turning the man’s shout of surprise into a wet gurgling groan. She pushes all her weight down on the knife handle, ignoring the punch to the face and the frantic clawing of his other hand tearing at her shirt. Rapidly the clawing of his hands slows just like the blows to her face, the rise and fall of his chest slows as he drowns in his own blood. Chest heaving with exertion, Dolores watches as the blade sinks in, tearing flesh and spraying out blood like a miniature volcano. She can feel it dripping on her face, the copper scent flooding her senses, and sliding down her front but Dolores ignores it in favor of making sure that the man knows that taking her and her sister was a bad idea.

Dolores wants him to know just who killed him, and if she derives a certain satisfaction at ending the life of one of the men responsible of hurting her sister then Dolores hopes that it shows through her expression.

Distantly she hears the loud crack of bullets ripping through the air. Flinching hard at the sound, Dolores rolls off the dead cholo and turns to see Beatriz shoot out the other two men’s knees in quick succession.

Her little had always been a great shot.

Beatriz shifts her stance a bit and delivers a head shot to one as he goes down, his face contorted in pain before his corpse jerks back; crumbling to the floor like a string less puppet. The other goes down hard, his screams of pain echoing throughout the abandoned yard, but Beatriz doesn’t deliver a kill shot.

To Dolores's confusion Beatriz lowers the gun, her face set in a cold unreadable mask. Dolores stands, pulling out the wet knife from the dead man’s throat with a sickening squelch. Wary about the sudden change of attitude, Dolores watches as her sister calmly makes her way forward and shoots at the man’s right shoulder.With the unnecessary wound making the cholo scream himself hoarse, Dolores realizes that Beatriz doesn’t want to kill this man. At least not right away/

Her little sister wants to drag his pain out.

Dolores keeps a cautious eye on the cholo because even if he has nowhere to run, pain and the threat of death makes a person does crazy things. Add to the fact that this cholo still has his weapons. So with a careful eye, Dolores watches as Beatriz nears the downed man and presses the hot barrel of the gun into the man’s forehead burning his skin.

“Take away his weapons.” Beatriz says, scrunching up her nose at the smell of burnt flesh, as she keeps the gun flush against his temple.

Dolores nears the two, stabbing the bloodstained knife into the ground, and makes quick work to remove the gun hidden at his back and the knife strapped by his hip. “Got it.” Stepping back she watches as Beatriz stares at the cholo.

“Shiiiit,” Beatriz says in a disturbingly flat tone, “you are one fine looking piece of pussy.”

“Fuck you puta, you don’t know what you’ve started.” The cholo says with a voice wavering with pain.

“Look at those tits, they real?” Beatriz continues before cocking her head to the side with a sardonic smirk, “Yeah, they real.”

“Do you know who we are?!” The cholo shouts, finally seeming to understand the danger he's in.

“Whores don’t talk back, puta. Only have yourself to blame for that bitch. If only I had the time, I’d discipline you. But hey, if you’re a good little bitch, I’ll let you suck my cock in exchange for your freedom.” Beatriz continues as if the man had never spoken.

“I shoulda fucked you when I had the chance whore,” the cholo snarls, “shoulda bent you over and fucked you like the bitch you are. Leave you bloody and broken.”

“Sabes que, your cunt isn’t worth it.” Beatriz ends as she leans in, ignoring his shouts.

Dolores sees his uninjured hand rising to hit Beatriz and reacts instinctively. Diving in quickly Dolores grabs his arm and runs the knife through the meat of his bicep, pinning him to the ground. Not a second later the crack of a bullet deafens her with its proximity, blood and brain matter splattering on her.

“Who’s the puta now?” Beatriz asks softly before turning to Dolores, eyes deadened. “Call Happy, tell him where we are and have him make sure this doesn’t trace back to us.”

Dolores bites her tongue, knowing that now isn’t the time to throw back Beatriz's words back at her, and searches through the corpses pockets until she finds her cell. She was just unlocking the screen when she hears the faint rumbles of an engine. The sound shatters the heavy oppressive atmosphere like glass.

“Do you think?” Beatriz asks as she eyes the horizon, sun sitting low in the sky.

“No,” Dolores says as she spots the dust clouds, “I don’t think it’s anyone good.” She rushes to call Happy, heart thumping hard in her chest as she strips the bodies of their weapons. Hearing it go to voicemail Dolores lets out a loud curse and leaves a terse message saying that they were at an abandoned farm off of route ninety-nine, a couple of miles away from her town before hanging up.

Beatriz gives out a victorious shout from finding the truck keys and her phone from the dead cholo’s pocket and hauls ass to the truck. The sisters barely reach it when the roar of various motorcycles eat up the silence. Acting quickly, they put their backs to the truck and squat down in front of the tires to hide. Hearing the newcomers speak Spanish, Dolores and Beatriz share a bleak look.

Dolores is not planning to die here. Knowing that her sister is backing her up, Dolores points to the small space under the truck where several feet are left open for the taking. Beatriz makes a face before signaling that they have limited ammo. Hearing someone walk closer to their hiding spot Dolores clenches her teeth, ear still ringing from the gunshot earlier, as her decision is made for her.

Waiting anxiously, gun up and safety off, Dolores keeps her eyes focused on the empty space and has time to catch the man’s surprised look before delivering a head shot. Reaching forward she pulls his corpse towards her, groaning at his dead weight, and strips him of his weapons even if on the other side of the truck chaos erupts.

She hears Beatriz muffled curses, gunshots swallowing the sound, before the truck door opens. “Get in!”

Dolores rips open the back door and jumps in, banging her knee, and keeps her body low. Turning to the side, she sees Beatriz shoving the key in the ignition and turns it so that the engine roars to life. With her sister’s body hunched in like a turtle, Dolores inches forward cringing as a bullet cracks the back window. Dolores rises up and returns fire, catching a biker in the chest. Shooting at the small group Dolores yells as a bullet hits her in the arm. The pain steals her breath as she jerks back, crying out at the pain that throbs out in wave of burning streaks. Groaning she just gets her breathing under control when the truck speeds forward, jerking her to the side and causing her to tumble to the truck floor. Giving a short wail Dolores tries to ride through the wave.

“Let’s see if playing GTA taught me anything.” Beatriz says tightly with dry humor before she yanks on the wheel and presses the gas pedal with her other arm.

Dolores grits her teeth against the pain, breathing in harshly through her nose, and holds onto the console with all her strength. The truck shoots forward as Beatriz does a hard left turn, awful thumps telling the two sisters that they hit someone. Pushing down the nausea Dolores sits up and uses the broken window to catch sight of the situation.

A biker on the ground, leg crushed by the tires, and another thrown sides ways into a motorcycle. Two had managed to dodge the truck and had begun shooting at the tires. Dolores clenches her jaw and takes aim, shooting only to curse furiously when the gun clicks empty. Dropping low, Dolores grabs another gun but crashes forward into the driver’s seat when one of the bikers successfully blow out the tire.

Swallowing a pained scream, Dolores pushes herself upright and sees Beatriz slither out from the truck and shoot out one of the biker’s knee when she’s tackled suddenly from the side and punched.

Something dark hardens and rises up from the pit of her stomach seeing her little sister being beaten. The pain from the bullet fades to the back of her mind as adrenaline floods her system. With a snarl Dolores kicks open the back door and jumps out, rushing forward to haul the biker off Beatriz and pulling the trigger when the gun kisses his temple. Dropping the corpse, Dolores tracks Beatriz as she scrambles back, like a weird crab, and points her gun to the downed biker.

“Move and he dies.” Beatriz’ voice rings out in the ensuing silence.

Dolores turns to look as Beatriz makes her way to stand behind the biker with the shot out knee, gun pointed at the back of his head, while the biker with the crushed leg points a gun at them. Dolores is quick to point her gun at him in return, “Drop it.” She barks out with bared a heavy scowl.

The biker glares at the both of them, cursing as he lowers the weapon.

Dolores chances a glance to the biker by the motorcycle, glad that he was still unconscious- or dead, either would be fine really. Getting up Dolores nears him and picks up the gun, confidant in the fact that he isn’t a threat anymore. Hurrying to the unconscious biker Dolores takes his gun and knife, and checks for a pulse.

He’s alive.

Disarmed he proves no threat so she doesn’t put a bullet through his skull. Walking back Dolores crouches down in front of the cholo that Beatriz has at gun point. “Why did you take us?”

“Fuck you.” was the answer.

Not impressed Dolores slams the butt of her gun onto his bloodied knee. After the man quiets down she asks again.

“Like I said pendeja, fuck you.” He says hoarsely.

“We should put him out of his misery.” Beatriz said in a dangerous hiss.

Now that she wasn’t moving, Dolores could feel the burning sensation from her arm crawl up and down her arm. Not wanting to even look at the damage, Dolores stares at the biker before their attention is snatched by the sound of engines.

Looking away is a mistake.

The biker uses that moment of distraction to tackle Dolores into the ground and rain blows on her. Beatriz is yelling in the background, Dolores barely understands what Beatriz is yelling at first until she hears _don’t have a clear shot_ , and panic starts to settle deep in her bones when all she can do is try to wrestle the man off of her. The biker, grunting and snarling at her, grips her bullet injured arm wrenching a pained scream from her. He has a nasty pained smile as he tightens his hold cruelly. Her breath is coming in rasps, panicked at being pinned by him and smelling his rank breath. Dolores frantically lifts her leg and knees him, but the biker just takes the hit, holding onto her determined to hurt her. Twisting his hand, another scream bursts from her throat, the biker hurriedly moves his free hand to her face in order to suffocate her. Dolores let out a hysterical muffled shriek, eyes wide, as Beatriz’ screams and the sound of the oncoming engines mix together.

She knows she needs to calm down, but Dolores can’t. Not with the pain whiting out her vision,not with the bikers hand closing around her nostrils and the heel of his palm smashing her mouth limiting her oxygen intake. Just as her vision darkens, movements becoming sluggish, the sound of motorcycle engines deafen her. Dolores in her weakened state barely sees her sister from over the cholo’s shoulder.

Beatriz’s face, bloodless in fear, is a blurry visage. Dolores doesn’t see that her sister’s hand is shaking as she plasters herself to the bikers back, all she knows is that one second the biker is over her and the next he’s not. Dolores doesn’t notice her sister dragging her trembling fingers through the cholo’s slicked back hair and yanking his head back. What she does notice is the pain of as his hand flies away from her face, nails scratching at her skin, and his other tugging roughly off on her wounded arm.

She doesn’t even notice when Beatriz kills him.

Dolores focuses on breathing, albeit in frantic manner, but she doesn’t care because her lungs are burning and her head feels too light.

“Dolores!” Beatriz shrills as she skids down next to her, knees hitting the ground hard. “You’re okay, just breathe. Nice and easy, come on.”

Dolores takes deep gulps of air, rolling to rest on her side and in the shadow of her sister’s kneeled form. When her lungs don’t feel three sizes too small, Dolores closes her eyes, “We get em all?”

“Yeah, but I think our luck just ran out.” Beatriz whispers with a watery tone as she grips the gun tightly.

“Cavalry’s arrived sweethearts.” A gruff grating voice calls out, amusement high lighting every vowel.

Dolores opens her eyes to see Beatriz whirl around, gun cocked and aim steady.

“Back off before I put a bullet between your eyes fucker.” Beatriz says in a brittle tone.

“Whoa, now,” that voice, a man, says with a chuckle, “don’t go pointing that cannon unless you really mean to use it.”

“Look around old man, you think I don’t?” Beatriz shots back.

“Well shit,” comes another voice, also male and nasally, “you sure these two needed rescuing Jax?”

Dolores stiffens at that and weakly grabs at her sisters waist, “Wait, I know that name.” Beatriz doesn’t lower her arm, but she doesn’t stop Dolores from pushing herself up to turn and look.

Theres a cluster of nine bikers, parked just in front of the cholo’s bikes. Dolores looks to see an old bulldog looking man with an army buzz cut. Next to him is a crazy black haired man with wild blue eyes, toeing a dead cholo and whistling his appreciation. Most of the others stay mounted on their bikes, shades on, but looking around the scene with interest. A familiar looking blonde man stares out with a grim look, a heavy bearded man with a beanie on his head next to him, but what makes Dolores bite her lip to stop the tears is Happy throwing off his helmet and dismounting quickly. “Happy.”

Beatriz’s breath stutters and moves a little to let Happy get close, gun still pointed at the old gruff looking man, and starts telling him about the unconscious cholo by the bikes and the one they tied up in the barn.Dolores gives a pained whine as Happy gently gets an arm around her waist, Beatriz snuggling close to them with the gun still up and aimed, “Get my cell and call my sister Antonia.”

“What you need is to see the Doc.” Happy says lowly, expression severe.

“No,” Beatriz says as she keeps her eyes, and gun, locked onto the old man, something about him rubs her the wrong way, “no doctors or hospitals. Antonia will know what to do.”

“You should listen to him,” the man says walking forward before stopping abruptly.

“Don’t.” Beatriz utters quietly after she shoots at the man’s feet.

“Hey,” Jax says softly from his motorcycle, slowly lifting his shades up so the roughed up woman can see his eyes, “I’m Jax. I know your sister, I helped her with something a while back.”

“Jax…so you’re Happy’s brother, the one that helped my sister with…her little problem.” Beatriz answers without taking her eyes off the now quiet older man.

“Yes, that’s me. Hey don’t worry about him,” Jax says as Clay shifts his weight but otherwise doesn’t move towards her, “he’s not going to hurt you. He’s in the club with Happy we all came to help you.” Jax tells her, taking in her bleeding lip and cut cheek.

Dolores is too tired to do anything to calm her sister down, and in all honesty she doesn’t want to. Sure Dolores was the intended abductee, but it was Beatriz who suffered more. If her sister feels more secure in having someone at gun point than Dolores wasn’t going to stop her. “Don’t.” Dolores echoes weakly at Happy when he makes to grab at Beatriz.

Happy pauses and fluidly moves his hand to secure her firmly in his arms.

“Listen,” Jax says when he sees the woman finally take her eyes off Clay, “why don’t you put the gun down or at least put the safety on? You and Dolores can come with us, we’ll take you away from here and meet up with your sister. Opie will help you with whatever you need.”

“The bodies,” Beatriz says as her hand begins to shake, adrenaline burning off fast, “they’ll be missed. I know that club, Calaveras. One of them was on the phone when Dolores killed him. No doubt they let the rest know or worse, they’ll call in the Mayans.” Beatriz narrows her eyes, “This happened because of you and your fucking club, **fix it**.” With that Beatriz lowers the gun, flicks the safety on and goes to back to the truck the bearded man with the beanie dismounting and trailing after her slowly.

Dolores glances at Jax, he doesn’t exactly flinch but she gets the sense that Beatriz had landed a direct hit. “Call Antonia, and then tell me why this happened.” Dolores turns to look at Happy, relieved to see him, and leans all her weight on him. Not only did the bodies need to be handled, but they needed a cover story fast for Antonia and an explanation for the state of the truck.

Dolores was right, things **are** never going to be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> 1\. Puta- bitch  
> 2\. Sabes que- you know what  
> 3\. Pendeja- asshole, fucker, someone unpleasant
> 
> Felt like we needed to take a break from all the sugary goodness with some good ol' murder.
> 
> I am of the opinion that farmers know how to shoot, and if someone's been trained to hunt then they have great aim. Has anyone tried to catch a chicken? Fuckers are fast and can pivot like nobodies business. 
> 
> Concerning Beatriz. I am assuming that as a Paramedic, she has seen some crazy shit. So in light of crazy shit, she would have taken self defense class,which is a great skill to have-see 'Not today Motherfucker' female jogger who fought off a sexual assailant thanks to a self defense class she took. Having said that, Beatriz would have seen and heard about the tragically backlogged rape kits in police stations and would have known like we all do that sometimes sexual assailants are not given the sentences they deserve. Frankly Beatriz has gone through a traumatic and violent attack, and you don't really know how a person will react. In my fictional world, set in an equally fictional world of SOA, I have her react to the extreme and take justice in her own hands. I don't condone this action. The authorities need all the help, and evidence, they can get from victims that speak up in order to build a case. But for fic purposes it was how I wanted her to react. 
> 
> Also, fighting someone even if its just wrestling is tiring as fuck. I say that from experience. A minute feels like an hour in a fight.


	5. My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy turns to look at her and smirks darkly at her, “Like what you see.”
> 
> “Yes, but I’m too exhausted to even do anything.” Dolores whines as she slowly moves down the bed and grunts when her knee twinges.
> 
> Chuckling Happy grabs the covers and hauls them up, “Raincheck?”
> 
> “Raincheck.” Dolores says firmly as she reaches out to turn off the lamp.
> 
> Happy lays there in the dark, feeling her arm touch his and says, “I’ve been blue balling for months now, better get better soon so I can fuck you into this mattress.” He smirks when he hears her tell him to shut the fuck up and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song My Way by Frank Sinatra. 
> 
> The club involvement and other club business is not going to mentioned further. I just couldn't write this without it. Also I mainly bullshitted my way through how a biker gang actually works and stuff so please don't take my word for it. 
> 
> Quickly edited so if I missed anything my bad.

In the end there was no plausible way of explaining what happened. People saw them being taken, or at least their truck being hijacked. It had been Opie’s idea to stick as close to the truth as possible, with some minor changes to conceal the fact that Dolores and her sister had essentially slaughtered half of the Calaveras gang. After that Dolores watched as half the men left, leaving a couple of prospects in the barn with the two remaining Calaveras, their bikes trailing dust clouds behind them, leaving only Jax, the bearded man with sad eyes and Happy. So they babied the shot up truck on the highway, planted evidence and called the police. Or rather Jax called some guy called Unser while Dolores carefully placed the bullet casings in a believable scattered position and Happy and Opie followed Beatriz’s directions on how to place the bodies on the tarmac. Jax stood to the side, after having wiped off some of the stains from Dolores on him for dramatic effect, with a grave expression as he told Unser that they had a problem that needed handling. After the scene was set, Beatriz stepping back to take it all in and seeing if it was believable through the eyes of a medical professional who’s been to a crime scene before, Dolores kept muttering about how she refused to see a doctor or go to the hospital.

“I don’t know who this Doc of yours is Happy but I am not going to the hospital. They already have me on file. They already think I’m abuse victim. No, I need Toni. She’ll handle this.” Dolores had nearly snarled at Happy who just gave her his patented cold eyed stare before snatching her phone and calling Antonia.

“You need to make your way to the Teller-Morrow garage in Charming.” Happy had said grimly. He didn’t add that he was one second away from knocking Dolores out and hauling her back to the clubhouse so the Doc can check her out. Dolores didn’t hear what her sister said in response but whatever it was, was cut short when Happy simply said, “You’re sisters need your help.”

Beatriz was with Opie, gazing out to the road like two watchful sentries. Jax was wiping his hands, looking as if he had been there with them from the start with his shirt stained and dirt smudging his face. Dolores had on Happy’s hoodie, hiding her bloodied arm, leaning against him as Happy glared out to nothing in particular.They had been waiting for ten minutes for this so called Sheriff Unser to arrive, Jax telling Beatriz that they’d talk when they were all clear from this after having been asked for the third time about what was going to happen. Dolores believed him, but she guessed that Beatriz’s death grip on the gun also hastened the blonde man with the VP patch to say what her little sister wanted to hear.

“You holding on okay?” Happy asked lowly, his voice a rumble.

Dolores blinked and swallowed through a dry throat. “Yeah, Beatriz tied up my arm real good so I’ll stop bleeding soon. It’s just a surface wound, won’t need stitches I think.” Breathing deeply she clenches her eyes shut, “Fuck, what am I going to tell Antonia? What am I going to tell my parents about this black eye that I feel already darkening up? Never mind that I look like I went a few rounds with an alley cat and lost. What about my _truck_?" Dolores just wanted this to be forgotten, left back at the abandoned farm. She didn’t want the police, she didn’t want the pity stares knowing that she didn’t deserve or _need_ it since she had rescued herself. Not that she could tell anyone. God, this day needed to be over.

“We already got the groundwork covered for us Dolores.” Beatriz speaks up as she turns to look at her sister who is standing with a glare and clenched fists next to her…whatever Happy is to her…who looks just as tense. “Everyone saw how we got taken at gun point at the gas station. We’ll say that Happy and his two friends were meeting up with us to guide us to the cook-out since we’ve never been to there. From there they’ll say that they saw the situation and saw the guns. We’ll say emotionally, because we went through a horrible ordeal and so glad to be alive, that the Calaveras shot first and these guys defended themselves. I’ll say that I managed to grab the wheel and pull us to a stop, it’ll concede with my prints. We managed to get loose and fight our way out, no one will doubt that the bad guys wanting to stop us resulted in you getting grazed in the arm. We’ll say that as we fought off those two, scared out of our minds and panicking, that Happy and Opie took care of them while Jax called the police. If your guy in the PD can be trusted that’s as far as it’ll go with investigating.” Beatriz says flatly as if reading off a script, looking at each of us until she settled her gaze on Jax.

Jax for his part just nods his head, impressed that the woman has a cool head when she had shot her way out of a gun fight. “Unser will pull through.”

“Need to clean up that barn though. Got Juice looking into the property, make sure that there are no surprise visits from the owner happens.” Opie says lightly, his eyes straying to Beatriz. The woman looked one second from dropping from exhaustion but the glint of steel in her eyes, reminded him of Donna when she had dug in her heels about something. Only Donna had never been this fierce enough to pick up a gun and drop a bunch of seasoned gang bangers or hold Clay at gunpoint.

Beatriz didn’t turn to look at the bearded man, only nodded, “Smart. It’s going to be tricky coming in with all the police here collecting evidence though.”

“I’ll make sure Unser gives us an opening. We’ll get the bikes and trash loaded up, make them disappear.” Jax assures her, glancing at the quiet Happy and an equally quiet Dolores. It was eerie how those two were almost mirror reflections. Jax eyed them for a few seconds more and noticed that although Dolores seemed to be at ease, there was a slight trembling to her frame whereas Happy held his body tight with fury. Jax looked away when the sister who was sporting a telltale bruise on her neck, Beatriz, called out to him. She was proving to be a criminal mastermind by how she set up the ‘crime scene’ and telling everyone what they were and weren’t going to say. Jax liked her, not only because she was taking charge of handling the situation in their favor but also for the way she had taken one look at Clay and had instinctively known that he was a threat. Jax had almost wanted Clay to make a wrong move so that he could be taken care of, no one would know of his own vendetta against the man for ripping apart Opie’s life, but then there was Tig. As much as it burned him he had talked her down and here they were, working the scene with Opie not so subtly staring at her when Beatriz wasn’t looking.

“What about retaliation? I know how these things work, seen it too many times at work. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the fucking time.” Beatriz says tightly before relaxing her hold on the gun. She didn’t care about the police so much as she did about the Mayans. She needed an assurance that they won’t be a problem and until Jax gave it Beatriz wasn’t about to let up on the questioning.

“We’ll handle it.” Opie says with confidence, meeting Beatriz’ hard gaze with his own and realizing with a jolt that this woman really didn’t need him hovering over him fixing all her problems. This woman would handle it on own her before she ever asked for help. Feeling unsteady Opie looked away first, eyes back on the road waiting for Unser to get here.

Dolores wondered if this was how her life was going to be now, full of gunpowder and blood. She was cut off from that line of thought when the distant sound of sirens reached her. Happy tensed beside her and Dolores didn’t need her sister to tell her that it was time turn on the water works. Taking a breath Dolores forced herself to cry, Beatriz following after her and soon they were both images of hysterical woman.

“What the fuck?” Happy asked sending her a weirded out glance.

Sniffing through tears Dolores quivers her lips, “It’s to-to make them overlook us.”

“N-no one wants to t-talk to a hysterical crying w-woman.” Beatriz cries as she hands Opie the gun and leans into him, shoulder shaking as the man hides away the weapon.

Happy frowns, looking disturbed at how believable Dolores looks as she lets tears and snot run down her face. If he didn’t know better Happy would say that she really is overcome with all the trauma instead of being the killer that he knows her to be.

“Show time.” Jax mutters as he straightens out his shoulders and eyes the police car that comes to a stop in front of them.

“Jesus Christ,” The man with a balding head and tan uniform mutters as he steps out of the patrol car, “alright block off the area. Get Roberts and his team out here to collect evidence. Jax, what the hell happened?”

“Sheriff Unser, don’t really know myself. We came out to meet them when we noticed how odd they were driving.” Jax says loudly aware of the other police officers that were arriving on the scene.

“Tried to flag them down,” Opie says calmly, not caring that his cut was getting wet with false tears, “but then the window rolled down and I’m dodging being shot at.”

Dolores and Beatriz cry out, tucking themselves closer to Opie and Happy. As if the very memory was too much for them to handle. Unser eyes them before quickly looking away, uncomfortable and a tad annoyed with their cries. Why was it always the women who couldn’t control themselves at times like these?

Happy resisted the urge to grin. He could see how the officers looked at the two women, hoping to hurry along the statements so that they could leave and take their crying with them. They were paying more attention to the Sons than the actual ones responsible for the bloodbath. The urge to smile faded at the reminder of just why they were here acting for the pigs. Keeping his expression blank, Happy vowed to rip the two fuckers still alive apart. The prospects had tied them up in the barn and knocked them unconscious until the club could go in and clean up. Happy was going to have fun with those two later on, but first he needed to make sure that Dolores and Beatriz were in the clear and checked over. Coming back to the present he saw that Jax was handling Unser perfectly, the women playing their roles beautifully and soon Unser was telling them that they could go.

“We’ll give you a call when you’re more composed to come to the station and give your statement ladies.” Unser said with a strained comforting smile.

“T-thank y-you Of-ficer.” Dolores said in a thin shaking voice, eyes bloodshot with tears.

Unser nods and looks relieved when Opie and Happy takes them away, leading them to the bikes. It wasn’t until Happy was driving down the highway, the roar of the engine in his ear that he realizes that Dolores wasn’t shaking anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Dismounting from the bike in the empty parking lot of the Teller-Morrow garage, Dolores spots her sisters truck and takes a steadying breath. Behind her she hears Jax and Opie park, her sister dismounting and whispering a thank you to Opie. Waiting for her Dolores eyes the lot and turns to the side to see her sister come to a stop next to her. They’re both dry-eyed, having stopped crying the second the blue and red lights of the police faded in the background.

“This is going to suck.” Beatriz says dryly with a grin, gun tucked into the waist of her pants.

“Come on better get it over with.” Dolores says nudging her sister with her elbow. “If you hear us yelling relax. No need to interfere.” She warns the guys before going to the club door that Happy points out.

Walking through the door, she sees Antonia sitting at the bar with a stoic expression. Dolores can see her sister’s medical bag on the counter, a wild haired man with just as wild blue eyes next to her with a smile on his lips as he talks to her. Dolores watches as Antonia catches sight of them, the relief in her eyes noticeable as she stands, ignoring the man in mid-sentence, and walks straight up to her and Beatriz with a look that could have been carved out from stone.

“You better have a fucking good excuse for me to drive all the way out here and spend hours with that creep.” Antonia warns with the narrowing of her hazel eyes and the tightening of her fists.

“We’ve got it handled, they’re-” Jax starts before he shuts up when the woman turns to look at him with a sharp glare and a raised finger.

“I’m not speaking to you Blondie, so how about you take a step back and let my sisters answer.” Antonia hisses at the blonde man before turning to look at Dolores and Beatriz who look like they were in brawl. “So?”

“We got hijacked. We resisted, Happy and them came to the rescue. Police is at the scene getting evidence. Now you can you please clean me up so I don’t look like a walking corpse.” Dolores says with a glare of her own, shrugging off Happy’s hoodie and tensing when her sister zeroes in on the bloodied sleeve. She just fought for her life, Dolores wasn’t in the mood to hear Toni bitch at her.

“Que diablos paso?” Antonia hisses as she latches onto the arm and drags her to the bar. “Beatriz, no te quedes parada como una idiota, come here.” This Antonia yells over her shoulder as she opens her bag and pulls on gloves.

Beatriz follows after them meekly shoulders drooped as she sags onto a stool. Closing her eyes she stiffens as she hears something slide towards her. Peeking through her eyelashes she sees a fat man with soft brown eyes, long frizzled salt and pepper hair and a matching beard.

“Looks like you need it more than I do.” He says with a genuine smile, his pot belly big and reminding the youngest of the Vane sisters of Santa Claus.

Beatriz looks down at the glass, sees the amber liquid and quickly downs the whiskey. Sighing at the burn going down her throat she slides it back, “Thanks.”

“Beatriz, te necesito.” Antonia says like a drill sergeant.

Dolores stares at the wall, gritting her teeth as Toni pours what feels like lava onto her arm. Breathing through the pain of the disinfectant Dolores gets an earful about how lucky she is that this is just a surface wound, that she won’t need stitches and good god who in the fuck scratched your face like a feral cat.

“Are you listening to me?” Toni snaps as she pours more disinfectant.

“Yes I fucking hear you Toni.” Dolores snarls back, looking up at her younger sister with a cold gaze. “You think I can’t hear you yapping away in my ear like some kind of fucking mosquito? No soy sorda. If you shut up for one fucking minute I’ll tell you lo que paso.” Dolores sighs sharply, looking away and feeling like she wants to break something and keep breaking until she no longer had strength in her to move. Dolores wants to feel bad about cursing her sister out in front of these strangers but the cold darkness in her isn’t willing to play nice.

Antonia for her part stills at the harshness in Dolores voice, at the disturbing glint in her eye and looks to Beatriz only to realize that her little sister has the same glint in her blue eyes. Pushing down the urge to nervously swallow, Antonia puts down the disinfectant and grabs her sister jaw. Forcing her sister to look at her, Antonia looks at her sister with a searching look.

Family over everything... **always**.

That was what they all promised each other, that was what they had inked permanently on their ribs, and Antonia was not about to jump ship on that. Not when she could see under all that dark rage that had the hair rising on the back of her neck in warning that Dolores needed her support. Whatever happened out there, Dolores wanted Antonia to accept because she could see not even a speck of regret or guilt in her older sisters brown gaze. So Antonia kept her grip on her sisters jaw, eyes narrowed in question.

Dolores reluctantly looks up at Antonia, seeing her expressionless face and too searching eyes on her. Sighing Dolores closes her eyes, “Toni, just leave it alone. I’ll tell you later.”

Antonia looks to Beatriz, seeing her down another whiskey shot courtesy of the man who had introduced himself as Bobby earlier. Sighing she pats her sisters jaw and wraps up her arm and cleans the scratch marks on her face. “You’re good to go. Triz you good or you need me?”

Beatriz shakes her head, “I’m good. This whiskey is doing all the work.” Lifting her third shot Beatriz salutes the potbellied biker and downs it.

Dolores shifts around, catching the older man’s eyes, “Pour me one bartender.”

Bobby grins and slides one to the roughed up woman, wondering just who in the hell these women are to make Happy, Jax and Opie ride out with a vengeance. He had noticed that Clay had come back tight lipped about it, saying something about being a gentleman and Jax better know what he’s getting into. “Here you go sweetheart.”

Dolores downs it the second it touches her fingers and sees Antonia lift her hand for one. Dolores feels Happy sit down next to her. Turning she gives him a tired smile, “Thanks for showing up Happy.”

Happy shakes his head, “Should have gone to look for you sooner.”

Dolores reaches out, placing a bloodstained hand on his arm, “You couldn’t have known. What matters is that you got there. Without you there, I don’t know what we would have done after…well after.”

Happy runs his tongue over his teeth before giving in to the urge to lay his arm over her shoulders. “You would have handled it like before. Don’t need me, never did.” He whispers, careful that the newest sister, Antonia, doesn’t hear him. Happy didn’t need another Vane woman snapping at him, and she looked like she’d bite at the smallest provocation.

Dolores grins lightly at him, “Shut up Happy. You know that’s not true. I do need you.” Dolores ignores the way everyone’s looking at them. The way the wild haired man looks like his eyebrows are going to disappear and make camp in his hair, how the bartender looks between Happy and her with questioning eyes. This wasn’t how she wanted to meet everyone.

“You coming home with us Happy?” Beatriz asks with the barest hints of a slur in her voice from downing another shot on an empty stomach.

“I’ll call Nana and tell her that she should call Apa and convince him and Ama to take the twins up for a visit. We’ll stay behind and take care of the farm.” Antonia says smoothly, looking poised as she takes out her phone, makes the call and starts talking with a perky voice as she takes off the gloves soiled with her sister’s blood.

Happy doesn’t say anything as he watches the slender woman talk with no care in the world, as if her sisters weren’t at her side looking wrecked. Just as suddenly Beatriz takes out her phone and makes a call, clearing her throat roughly and making disgusting sniveling sounds before making an excuse that she doesn’t feel so good to come into work the next day. Dolores breathes out a laugh at her sisters, giving him a teasing look.

Dolores gives him a smirk, “So, are you coming home with us Happy?” Dolores doesn’t laugh but seeing Happy look from sister to sister was funny; a welcome change from the seriousness before. She knew that Toni and Triz were going to pounce on Happy the second they were on familiar territory and Dolores was just too damn exhausted to even attempt to stop them.

“Guess so.” Happy says calmly, fingers still itching with the need for violence.

“Alright,” Antonia says with a commanding voice, “Beatriz you’re riding with me. Happy you take Dolores, Bobby can you give us that bottle? Thank you honey,” Antonia says with a bright charming smile that hides the barbed warning if the man didn’t heed her, “Blondie, I’m sure that you’ll handle whatever there is to handle?” Looking at the handsome blonde that had blood stains on his shirt Antonia narrows her gaze on him until he nods. Smiling she looks away and packs up her bag, “Perfect! Bobby the bottle, oh bless you this is perfect!” Antonia leans across the bar and kisses the older man on his soft pudgy cheek before grabbing ahold of Beatriz, “Goodbye everyone, thank you for your hospitality. Beatriz say goodbye.”

Beatriz waves, “Bye.”

“Dolores, we’ll be outside.” Antonia states crisply as she marches her way out of the club house like a hurricane.

Dolores stands, grinning at a stunned Bobby, “Yeah, Antonia can be a bit headstrong but she means well. Thanks for the bottle.” Turning she looks to Jax and Opie, even the wild haired man who doesn’t know where to look with his raised brows, “I can’t thank you enough for doing what you did back there.”

Jax shakes his head, “No need to ever thank me, or us, for that.”

“Regardless, thanks. Sorry we couldn’t make it to the cook-out.” Dolores can’t help but add, even when Happy lays his hand on her lower back.

“Jax doesn’t mind.” Happy says as he looks to Jax.

“Exactly, what’s important is that you and Beatriz are safe.” Jax says in answer to Happy’s look.

“Tell your sister that we’ll make good on our promise.” Opie says just as Happy and the farmer reach the door.

Dolores just nods as Happy leads her outside and on his bike. Toni and Triz are already in Toni’s truck, engine idling before pulling out of the lot when they spot the two. Putting on the helmet, Dolores sides behind Happy and wraps her arms around him, taking in his scent as Happy pulls out.

 

* * *

 

 

Back in the club the four men stand still, each looking like they survived a whirlwind before Tig sits down on the still warm stool.

“So, am I the only one confused here?” Tig says as he looks at Bobby.

Bobby shrugs, “Guessing that woman that Happy was cozying up to is the reason he’s been turning down sweet butts left and right for months now.”

“She’s not his type.” Tig can’t help but say.

“She’s Happy woman,” Jax says in a hard voice, glaring at Tig, “and that means that he asks for help we give it. Unser is giving us an hour window to get in and out, so get the van ready.”

“What do we do about the bikes?” Opie asks, thinking on stubborn blue eyes and soft skin.

“Use for parts?” Bobby throws out as he collects the three shot glasses.

“Gotta call Alvarez, make sure to get this squashed before anything else happens.” Jax says with a sigh.

“Why would the Calaveras go after them though? We didn’t even know that she was in Happy’s crosshairs.” Tig can’t help but say. “And Hap’s a Nomad.”

“Probably thought it’d be an easy hit, way to impress Alvarez and get more street cred who knows? Weren’t counting on the fact that they bit off more than they could chew. Those two practically took down half their club today.” Opie says with an impressed inflection in his voice.

“Almost took down Clay too.” Tig says with casualness that no one believes.

“They what?” Bobby asks with a frown.

“Tig.” Opie says before Jax even opens his mouth.

Jax looks at Opie in surprise as his best friend steps in close and glares down at Tig.

“Those two women just killed their way through more than five men, men who didn’t hesitate in hurting them in order to get to one of us. They didn’t say one word to them about us. If they felt better pointing a gun at us, than I’m not complaining but so help me if you even think of retaliating I am going to make sure you regret it.” Opie says quietly. “Pray that Happy never hears what you just said, because whatever I do, he’ll do worse.”

Tig just nods slowly, leaving his spot by the bar and making his way outside.

Bobby who has been watching silently sighs and goes back into the kitchen, too much drama for him.

“Opie-” Jax starts.

“I know you’re the VP but Tig, he needed to be stopped before he got it into his head that they’re a threat.” Opie says.

Jax nods. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep Tig in line. For now let’s get rid of the trash. Set it up while I call the Mayans.”

“Got it.” Opie says, turning to go outside.

Jax sighs as he stands alone in the club. “Fuck.” Pulling out his burner he flips it open and dials Alvarez. “It’s Jax, we got a situation.”

 

* * *

 

 

Happy is closing the bathroom door, Dolores waving him off saying something about needing ‘her’ time, turns around and tries not to jump at the sight of Beatriz and Antonia crowding the bedroom door. It’s creepy the way they just stand there, like vultures, staring at him and not crossing the door like some weird vampire shit. Quirking a brow Happy walks towards them and frowns as they step back and herd him to the kitchen.

“Wanna tell me what’s this about?” Happy asks because he is not in the damn mood to play twenty-one questions. As if a dam breaks Happy stares as the two start talking over each other.

“The fuck happened out there?”

“What about the truck?”

“Just who are you?”

“What about the bodies?”

“ _Bodies_?!” Antonia nearly screams as she looks away from him to look at Beatriz.

“Opie said he’d handle it but I need more than just his word, I need **your** word.” Beatriz says ignoring her sister.

“Whoa hold the goddamn phone,” Antonia says with a slam of hand on the table, “you just said bodies. What bodies? What the hell is going on?”

Happy sighs and leans back against the stove, the two sisters sitting down at the table. He sees Antonia bring out the bottle of whiskey, uncapping it and taking a swig before passing it to her sister. “Your sisters were kidnapped.”

“Excuse me?” Antonia says with disbelief.

“It’s true we were. Taken to an old farm, god what a cliché.” Beatriz says in between drinks before she passes him the bottle.

“Cliché, what the hell! You were kidnapped and we’re here sitting in the kitchen acting like it’s nothing. Have you called the police?” Antonia asks shrilly.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this is new, we _told_ you at the garage already.” Beatriz says with a shrug.

“I didn’t believe you. I thought you got in a fight with-” Antonia pauses awkwardly as she looks at Happy, “well just that you got in a fight.”

“I didn’t fucking touch them.” Happy growls as he grips the neck of the bottle tight.

“If anything Happy here is both the answer and the reason for our problems.” Beatriz says with a bitter grin.

“I don’t know why they went after you. I’m not even a member of the SAMCRO chapter. Probably wanted to brag to the Mayans, scale the hierarchy.” Happy says denying the bottle to the sisters who hold out their hands. If he’s not drinking then no one is.

“But if you’re a Nomad, it makes no sense going after you.” Antonia says after unsuccessfully trying to get the bottle back.

“Maybe they didn’t know?” Beatriz asks aloud.

“They know.” Happy says coldly. “They’ve got shit for brains and they’re gonna pay. Don’t you worry about that.”

“But what about the Mayans?” Beatriz can’t help but ask, her bravado falling away now that she was home and safe.

“Jax is talking with the Mayan Prez, he’ll work it out so you won’t be bothered.” Happy tells the now vulnerable looking sister. “I want Dolores as my Old Lady, you know what that means?”

The sisters nod, having worked on too many gang members to not pick up the lingo.

“Then you know that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, to protect you.” Happy says with the same will that makes him drive to Bakersfield to see his Momma. To pay for her meds and to make her comfortable, no matter the expense.

Beatriz finally, truly, believes him and breathes easier. “Thank you Happy.” She doesn’t say anything that she had been planning to say to him earlier, about just why he had helped Dolores with the junkies, or if he ever plans on calling in a favor for his club. Right now, every muscle feeling tender and smelling of dry blood, Beatrix doesn’t have the high ground anymore.

Antonia feeling like she’s missing a piece of the puzzle but knowing that she’s better off not asking gives Happy a grateful nod and nudges Beatriz to her feet. “Well we’re all tired, better get into bed. Have a good night Happy.”

Happy nods watching as the slender woman who shares the same firm backbone as her sisters walks down the hallway and into a room. Alone in the kitchen Happy sighs and pulls out his burner. Dialing his lifts it to his ear and doesn’t have to wait long for Jax to answer. “What’s the situation?”

“Unauthorized hit. Alvarez says that he’ll clean house and that he’ll stand down if we return the two still alive. Hopes we don’t expect to get any more hits in considering the death toll.”

“Fuck that.” Happy snarls quietly as he starts pacing up and down the kitchen floor.

“Brother, he won’t budge on that. Alvarez says that he needs those two alive. That was one of his conditions so that his crew doesn’t decide to take revenge.” Jax says curtly. “We can’t turn that down. Not when it means that the Mayans will back down and leave Dolores and her family alone.”

“They’re **mine**. They fucking dared to touch her, to hurt her. I can’t just let that go.” Happy says to Jax as he clenches his hand tightly.

“I tried brother, said that they fucked with a Nomad Unholy Ones Old Lady but fucking Alvarez.” Jax curses. “He’s making sure to not look weak in front of his crew by denying you your kills. Making it seem like they’re doing us the favor of not going to war, no matter that one of their affiliated MC’s got taken down by two women. He’s going to spread the word that it was you who spilled all that blood, not the girls, and that when he gets the two alive he’ll cut out their tongues before handling them. Says he’s going to set an example to his crew. Hap, I know it fucking burns but we gotta take this deal.”

Happy stays quiet, rage robbing him of breath and finally spits out a yes when Jax says his name again. Hanging up Happy grabbed the phone tightly before throwing it across the room in a fit of fury.

“Guessing bad news?”

Happy stills and turns to see a freshly showered Dolores staring at him from the hallway her body shrouded in darkness and a dark robe. Shaking his head he keeps his mouth shut and resists throwing the bottle too.

Dolores walks up to him, grabbing his arm and meeting his warning glare with her calm gaze. “Come on.”

Happy doesn’t want to be calmed, he wants to fight. Making to pull away he pauses when Dolores tightens her grip on his arm and hauls him towards the backyard. Feeling the strength of her hand on his wrist, Happy relaxes a bit and lets himself be led outside. It’s dark now, the kitchen light seeming brighter as it’s surrounded by the night sky. Happy glances at the barn that houses the cows in quiet contemplation. The smell of hay, of grass and animal washes over his senses; not quite calming him but making his palms loosen just an inch. Happy wonders just where the fuck Dolores is taking him when suddenly she stops them. Behind the barn there’s a small shed.

“Got a bit of firewood in there that needs chopping. Go ahead, I can practically smell your rage.” Dolores says quietly as she opens the shed door and yanks on a string connected to the hanging light bulb.

The inside is washed with a warm light, illuminating farm tools and a large stump where a block of wood lays. Happy can feel the urge to grab the axe, to destroy, and hauls Dolores in for a hard kiss. Here he is feeling like he’s breaking with the urge to bloody his knuckles to the point where he can’t think of anything else, and Dolores hands him the perfect outlet.

“Go wild. I’ll be inside, come in when you’re ready.” She whispers against his lips, her scab breaking at the corner of her lip and flavoring their kiss with blood.

Happy doesn’t say anything, just grunts at her as she steps back and he steps forward to grab the well-kept axe by its thick handle. He’s alone by the time he makes the first swing.

Hours later, Happy is drenched with sweat and the urge to kill has shimmered down to a low heat that he can ignore. On the other side of the wall there’s a nice big stack of chopped firewood, neatly organized because Happy didn’t do sloppy work. Putting the axe away, his arms feeling like jelly, Happy pants a little as he turns off the light and walks out. Breathing in the clean air, hearing nothing but crickets and the soft sounds of the cows moving about Happy feels himself really unwind. Out here, so far away from the road and the town, it feels like he’s on a different planet. No fucker hiding behind a corner trying to challenge him.

Making his way to the house, eyes on the light, he walks up the steps and into the kitchen. Dolores is sitting at the table, hands wrapped around a coffee mug and legs bare. Happy stops, shock running through him at seeing all that skin on display.

It’s not that he’s never seen a pair of legs, shit he’s seen every inch of the female body countless times before. It’s just that he’s so used to seeing Dolores covered up in long sleeved flannels and work pants that leave only her face and neck on display. Happy doesn’t mind it. He likes the flannel and shit, but seeing _her_ legs, toes now painted a deep red, pale skin practically begging him to get an eyeful leading up to powerful pale thighs. Fuck, it’s not even erotic but Happy feels just like he did when he was sixteen and sneaking into a strip club to see naked women. She’s just sitting there, legs crossed at the ankle, boxer shorts stripped red and white and sporting a white tank top and he feels like his heart to gonna beat itself out his chest. She has all her hair pulled up in a half-assed bun, face exposed to the kitchen light that shines light on a purpling eye, split lip and scratch marks on her chin.

“Want some?” Dolores asks him with a soft smile, her eyes a gentle chocolate brown.

And fuck, he doesn’t deserve this but fuck if anyone tries to take it from him. He’ll tear everyone limb from limb if they ever try again, fuck the consequences. Giving his woman, because that’s who she is in his mind, a nod Happy watches as she gets up and pours him a cup of hot cocoa.

“Marshmallow’s?” She asks looking at him from over her shoulder.

“Nah, I’m good.” He manages to say as he takes the cup.

Dolores turns off the stove, putting on the lid and leaving it for tomorrow. Turning she grabs her cup and signals for him to follow, seeing that all the rage was worked out if his sweaty shirt was any indication. “Shower?”

“Yeah.” Happy says after taking a long gulp.

Happy finishes the drink, handing her the cup in exchange for a towel and a pair of boxers. Raising a questioning brow he sees her roll her eyes at him.

“They’re mine. I have a whole pack of them as pjs.”

Happy takes it and goes inside, turning on the shower and stripping down quickly. Soon he’s under warm water, perfect water pressure and sighing. Happy doesn’t take too long washing, grabbing a bar of soap placed neatly to his right and cleans off the sweat. Five minutes later he’s pulling on the boxers and rubbing the towel on his head to dry off the water. Opening the door he looks down the dark hall, kitchen light off and Dolores bedroom door opened slightly. Grabbing his clothes and damp towel he walks barefooted and closes the door behind him.

On the bed Dolores sits with her legs crossed, sheets pulled down and a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose as she knits.

“You look like an old woman.” Happy can’t help but say with a grin, knowing that his Momma will have a blast with Dolores. They can knit together when he goes to visit.

“Fuck off.” She says without a pause, finishing up the row on the blanket she’s knitting and sets it aside on her night table. Taking off the glasses she gives him a wide eyed look at seeing all his tats.

Happy huffs out a laugh and folds his clothes and sets it on her dresser, draping his cut over the bundle of clothes before making his way to the bed. Laying down on the firm mattress he lets out a tired sigh, “Shit didn’t know that chopping wood was a good stress relief.”

“Yeah…” Dolores says lightly, eyes taking in all of Happy’s tight muscles and gorgeous body art. Her hands itch to touch the cluster of smiling faces but resists because her body is screaming at her to lay down and go the fuck to sleep.

Happy turns to look at her and smirks darkly at her, “Like what you see.”

“Yes, but I’m too exhausted to even do anything.” Dolores whines as she slowly moves down the bed and grunts when her knee twinges.

Chuckling Happy grabs the covers and hauls them up, “Raincheck?”

“Raincheck.” Dolores says firmly as she reaches out to turn off the lamp.

Happy lays there in the dark, feeling her arm touch his and says, “I’ve been blue balling for months now, better get better soon so I can fuck you into this mattress.” He smirks when he hears her tell him to shut the fuck up and sleep.


	6. Besame Mucho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We need to talk mija.” Lucinda said in her accented English, back straight and voice firm. 
> 
> Dolores resisted the urge to quake in her boots, “About?” If this was about Happy and her ending things then they were really going to get into it. Dolores had signed a damned contract, binding herself to the farm and to the store, what else did they want from her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Besame Mucho by Cesaria Evora 
> 
> It took me a while to get into it. But here I am. Hope y'all enjoy it. We're almost at the finish line!

Since that day when all hell broke loose and the Sons of Anarchy helped Dolores and her sister cover up their unavoidable murder spree, Beatriz has not shown her face in a month and a half. The day after the attack waking up and eating all together in the kitchen, with Happy pouring them coffee since their bruised limbs shook with the effort, Beatriz had given Dolores a strained look as she told her that she was going to stay away for a time. Dolores had just smiled at her baby sister, watching as the frayed pieces of Beatriz were barely held together with a strained grin and clenched hands.

_I’m not like you Loli, I can’t move past it like it’s nothing. We-I- did something horrendous even if it was for my own survival. I need time before I can even come back and not break apart._

Dolores understood. Antonia had left with her, serious faced but not angry as she left the house.

_I’ll take care of her, don’t worry._

Turning off the knob, Dolores checks that all three tanks are full of water and goes to replenish the feed. “Madge, you really don’t know how you lucky are you being a cow.” Madge turns to her, big brown eyes looking at her as she chews before making a soft mooing sound. Dolores pats the cow’s thick powerful neck, grinning at the powerful but gentle beast. Dolores reaches up with her free hand and pushes up her worn Stetson hat, looking out to where Juanita and Blossom are laying on the grass catching sun rays. Even now Dolores doesn’t feel a shred of regret, of guilt, for what happened- just a deep sense of vindication at surviving and killing those who had hurt her and her sister. She only feels bad for what her sister is passing through, the emotional upheaval.

Speaking of emotional upheaval, her parents, particularly her Ma, had screamed to high heaven when she saw how beat up Dolores and Beatriz had looked when they had returned home.

They gave their parents the same story that they had told Sheriff Unser, which was so close to the truth that Dolores didn’t feel bad for the little lies inlaid among the words. Just like Beatriz had predicted, the Sheriff didn’t bother to investigate further. Not when the Calaveras that had taken them were all dead and Unser on the Son’s payroll. Her truck was the only real causality. Shot up to hell and saturated with the smell of gun powder. Happy had been quick to hand off the truck to the Teller-Morrow auto garage, the insurance money staying in her bank account since SAMCRO would fix it up for her free of charge. Dolores thought that maybe they all felt guilty. Guilty that it was partly their fault that they were taken in the first place, but as long as they were paying for the repairs Dolores just went along with it. Thing was Dolores didn’t blame SAMCRO for what happened. Happy had told her that it was unsanctioned attack, the President of that charter negotiating with Jax to settle terms of peace. There wouldn’t be backlash from the remaining Calaveras or the Mayans. The backlash came from home. For a while Dolores parents had forbidden Happy from even showing his face around the house, convinced that it was his fault that Dolores and Beatriz were almost killed.

It was a tense time Dolores could admit, watching Happy leave the morning after only to be threatened by her Ma and Pa to no longer come around- that he was no good for her. By that point Beatrix and Antonia had left, the twins in their room quiet as church mouse’s as the arguments grew louder and louder. For days they went at it, until finally it reached a breaking point.

_I’m a grown ass woman, who I decide to see is not your concern_

_You could be fifty but as long as you live under my roof that…that gangster isn’t welcomed!_

Dolores clenched her jaw at that memory of her father, yelling at her with redden cheeks and concern in his eyes.

_You’re absolutely right, I’ll be out by the end of the day_

That had sent them into a panic.

Dolores knew that out of all her siblings she was the only one that appreciated the farm, the only one that truly worked it now that her Pa was getting older. Sure he still went out and checked things over, but lately he had been leaving it all to her. Just like the store. It was only a matter of time before they packed up and went to live closer to her paternal grandparents, retiring to the ‘big house’ as her mom liked to call it.

There was no one willing to take over the farm.

Alex, the eldest, lived in Stockton with his own auto-shop that specialized in diesel trucks. Bart, short for Bartolo, lived in East Los Angeles working as the head of the IT department for a big wig company. Maximo, her younger brother right after Antonia, was rooming with Toni- both of them going to school for nursing. Beatriz lived in Lodi with them but in different apartment complexes, seeing as she worked as an EMT-P with crazy hours; and the twins had barely turned eighteen this year and still lived home. Too young to take over. Unless her parents sold it there was no one to look after it for them. And no matter how much someone made an offer her parents would never sell the farm.

So Dolores had sent Happy a message telling him to make himself scare as she handled the issue. Eventually her parents had relented, because they needed Dolores and Dolores wasn’t going to back down from this fight. She was their only child that loved the land and worked her fingers to the bone to keep it running, damned if she wasn’t going to use that to her advantage. So after the yelling had quieted down they all sat down, with their lawyer, and worked out the details. As soon as the boys graduated and went off to college they’d move to the big house, leaving the farm and store to Dolores receiving twenty percent of the gross profits in return to handing over ownership. Once the contract was written, signed and notarized the Vane household finally settled into an awkward silence. It was real now, no more talking about handing over the farm. It was a done deal and the day after Dolores signed she finally texted Happy to come over.

_He saved my life, saved our lives, you’re going to have to make peace with the fact that he’s not going anywhere_

Since then her parents accepted Happy’s presence in her life, but the friendliness from before was gone. No matter how much Dolores and Beatriz, when she was called, told them that Happy saved them they just didn’t like him.

Which was expected Dolores supposed, two of their daughters get hurt by some thugs wearing cuts just after her and Happy get together? What parent wouldn’t react the same way? Still Dolores didn’t let that bother her because a stand needed to be made and she’d made hers the day she let Happy walk into her home and leave with the two junkies.

God that seemed so long ago.

Dolores gave Madge a final pat before pulling the long hose back and wrapping it up and out of the way. Finishing up for the day, her boots caked with mud and loose pieces of hay, Dolores walked up to the house. Toeing off the work boots on the mat, her house shoes laid down just in front of it, Dolores see that her Ma is sitting at the table. She’s alone in the kitchen, cup of coffee in her hand and an expression that Dolores hasn’t seen since she was fifteen and her Ma cornering her in her room to give her The Talk. Dolores hesitates, feet half in and half out of her boots, unsure of what she’s walking into.

“We need to talk mija.” Lucinda says in her accented English, back straight and voice firm.

Dolores resisted the urge to quake in her boots, “About?” If this was about Happy and her ending things then they were really going to get into it. Dolores had signed a damned contract, binding herself to the farm and to the store, what else did they want from her?

Lucinda didn’t say anything, just raised a brow and waited for her first born daughter to sit her butt down. It had rankled on the older woman’s nerves that Dolores was seeing a cholo. Dolores deserves better than some than some two-bit gangster. Lucinda had said so to her daughter’s face without batting an eye because that’s what every mother –at least any mother worth her salt- wants for their child. Only the best in life. Lucinda had dragged her feet, closed her eyes and turned her head but in the end no matter how much she griped the result was the same. Dolores wouldn’t budge and Lucinda forced to accept that her daughter wasn’t going to let the man go.

That boy was a cold one, all harsh lines and rough voice. All bark and all bite. Lucinda wasn’t one to be fooled, she knew that the boy was trouble. She recognized the look in his eyes, lots of men had the same look back in la vecindad that she used to live in back in Mexico. But…but that boy also loved her daughter with a passion that overshadowed everything. And it was love, no matter how much that boy tried to act cool and suave like he wasn’t almost a nervous mess when Dolores was next to him. Lucinda saw, because nothing escaped the gaze of a concerned mother, how the boy practically melted whenever Dolores smiled at him.

It was that reason alone why Lucinda was throwing in the white towel. Almost two months of strained dinners that were heavy with tension, filled with a silence that reeked of anger, Lucinda was calling a cease fire. She had already given Alexander a warning about behaving himself when the boy was around, and now here she was about to set some rules for her daughter.

Because if she was going to lay down her arms, she was going to give some conditions.

As soon as Dolores sat down, the older woman took a fortifying sip of her coffee. Lucinda eyed her daughter and spoke after a second of silence. “I know that we cannot keep you from seeing that boy, I know that he isn’t really responsible for what happened but do not judge us so harshly. You are our children, no matter how old you get we will always worry for you. Seeing you all bruised up, well it didn’t sit right with me.” Lucinda explained. “I know that you say he helped you, but do not think I am blind. I know what he is, or at least what he is capable of. You think I’ve never seen those types of eyes back in Mexico?” Lucinda said quietly, making sure to speak in English so that there would be no misunderstandings. “You think people back home were happy when your father came and got me pregnant at seventeen? They kept saying I was the gringo’s whore, not knowing that Alexander had already proposed to me- had already told me and my parents that he wanted me to leave to America with him. People don’t like things that are different from them, your father barely survived the beatings. I know that the boy is a hard man, but when he looks at you,” here Lucinda smiles softly, “how can I not recognize the same stupid look in his eyes that I would see in the mirror? How can I stand in the way, just like they did when I was young and in love with my Alexander? That boy loves you, no he does.” Lucinda says loudly interrupting her blushing stuttering daughter. “He may not have said it, but a mother knows mija. What I am trying to say is that if you really want this, a relationship with that boy then I will accept it. I do not want what happened to my mama to happen to me. No news for years until her pride finally broke and she reached out to me, missing almost twenty years of my life and missing getting to know her grandchildren.”

Dolores feels her cheeks on fire and ignores the stinging in her eyes, “I do.” Throat tightening she pushes on, “I do want to be with him. I don’t know how to explain it but when I’m with him it’s like I can breathe. Like I can relax and **be** myself. He likes me for **me** , farmer and all. He doesn’t think I’m not sexy with my flannels or my work boots and when I get mad he doesn’t yell at me. He lets me vent and rant and then when I’m done he’ll talk it out with me. He’s brutally honest and even though he looks tough he’s only ever gentle with me.” Dolores says in a whisper, eyes looking at her Ma before sliding away in shyness.

“Yes, you always did have a temper de los mil demonios.” Lucinda says with a half-grin, feeling every one of her nearly fifty years.

“I don’t know if I love him, but I know that whatever I feel for him is too big for me to explain. I know that I want to find out what it is that I feel for him. I don’t want to leave him and regret it for the rest of my life, not even for you.” Dolores confesses, leaning forward on the table and as a stray tear rolls down her face. Wiping it away she clears her throat, trying to regain some composure. “I know that he’s not exactly what you want for me, but I want him all the same. So can you please just…stop making him feel as if he was the one that caused that hold up at the gas station?”

Lucinda sighs, “I promise that your father and I will be more…nice. I just want that whatever he does outside of this family _stays_ out. Don’t try and convince me that he doesn’t _do_ something, I don’t want to know what he does, all I want is no trouble coming here, you hear me Dolores?” Lucinda says with a pointed look.

“I promise Ma, Happy would never ever bring any trouble to us.” Dolores says with certainty knowing that whatever role Happy has in his club he keeps away from her.

_It’s my shit to deal with, not yours. I don’t want you in the life and I know you don’t want to be in it so just leave it_

Lucinda finishes her cup, standing and pulling her daughter up to give her a hug. “Alright mija, alright. I love you and if he makes you happy,” here they both laugh, “then so are we. Just tell him that we expect a beautiful wedding and a dozen grandbabies.”

Dolores chokes out a stammered answer and watches as her mother leaves, her shoulders relaxed and a spring in her step. Dolores takes a moment to let the talk sink in before she sits back down and coves her face, a smile warring with tears on her face.

 

* * *

 

 

“For the last time Happy,” Dolores says into her cell phone, walking through her room underwear in one hand and a sports bra in the other, “I am not going to Bakersfield on the back of your bike. That is almost a four hour drive. I have never ridden on a bike and I am not going to have my first time be a long haul like that.”

This has been an ongoing argument since the cease fire two weeks ago. Happy had come to the house, jaw clenched ready to either duke it out or withstand an attack, and had noticeably relaxed when her Ma had given him a smile and handed him a plate of food and her father simply giving him a nod of acknowledgement before waving for him to sit at the table. That night, Happy had asked her to go with him to visit his mother who lived Bakersfield while helping her clean the kitchen. After that her Ma’s attitude sailed by polite and straight into friendly once more, ever urging the relationship in the direction where she could hear wedding bells and baby cries.

Speaking of, Dolores spies her Ma walk into the room with a suitcase in hand and a hard glint in her eye. Dolores gives her Ma an inquiring look, wondering what she wants as she hears Happy grumble about how he’s only ever made the trip on his bike and he wasn’t about to break tradition and how she needed to learn how to ride on the back of his bike.

“Happy I’ve said my piece.” Dolores says as she props her underwear filled hand on her hip. Listening to Happy growl at her that she doesn’t even have her truck back so _‘what the fuck are you going to do? Walk your ass down there?_ ’ she rolls her eyes, “You act like I can’t get another truck to drive. Happy I’m a farmer there’s always another truck to use. I’ll just take my parents truck,” here she looks to her Ma and grins when she gets an approving nod, “and we can drive down there. You can drive it if you want to uphold tradition so bad, but I am not riding bitch for four hours. I’ll follow behind you if need be Happy Lowman.” Dolores says with finality before she waves off her Ma’s questioning look and nods along to what Happy says, “Yes, we can load up the bike in the bed of the truck. Okay, I’ll pick you up at the garage… _yes_ Happy I’ll be there early. Okay bye.” Hanging up she sighs and rubs her face.

“Everything alright?” Lucinda asks.

“Yeah, just Happy being Happy but I am not going to ride behind him on his motorcycle for four hours. I finally convinced him to use the truck on the condition that we load up the bike so we can ride around in Bakersfield on it.” Dolores thought he was being ridiculous, but if that’s what it took to get Happy to drop the idea of making the trip on the bike then fine.

“Okay,” Lucinda said simply as she looked at the clothes her daughter was taking, seeing with dismay at the numerous flannel that covered her bed, “when do you leave?”

“Day after tomorrow. Happy wants me to be in Charming by six in the morning, so I’ll be up at like five.” Dolores says with a careless shrug. She’s used to waking up early so it isn’t a big deal to her.

Lucinda lifts the suitcase on the bed and turns to place a hand on her daughters shoulder. Waiting until Dolores looks at her she says with all seriousness, “Por el amor de dios, please pack something other than flannel.”

Dolores rolls her eyes, “I will Ma.”

 

* * *

 

Duffle bag packed Happy stands in the dark parking lot with a sleepy eyed Opie, the wheel chock to the side ready to be loaded up on the truck that Dolores is coming in.

“Never thought I’d see you not ride down to Bakersfield Hap.” Opie says with a lazy grin.

Happy sucks on his teeth, shades propped up on his head, and shrugs.

It had been like talking to a brick fucking wall with Dolores. She had from the start refused to ride his bike to go down to see his Momma. From day one he been hearing her say no like a broken record. Nothing he said managed to change her mind, even offering to follow after him rather than ride with him.

Didn’t she understand the significance of it? The Old Lady riding with her man? Fuck. Usually whenever he made a decision people were quick to submit to it, but Dolores was like a dog with a bone. Not wanting to let it fucking go. So Happy had found himself negotiating for what has to have been the first time in his life with a woman.

Him, Happy Lowman, negotiating instead of just telling the person to fuck off.

Considering that the person was Dolores, a woman who Happy was very interested in and didn’t want to lose, he couldn’t tell her to fuck off. He suspected that if he had told her that Dolores would have responded by giving him that hot violent filled look that always made Happy itch with the need to tackle her and make her submit to his will.

The entire experience had left him feeling perplexed and odd for the entire day, until his Momma had called and he had to fight off a grin when he heard her laugh in joy about his upcoming visit.

Suddenly a loud rumbling broke through the early morning, the sun still nestled deep beneath the horizon. Happy shifted his stance as two bright headlights burned through the night sky and entered the parking lot, flooding the area with artificial light.

“Oh my god, you weren’t kidding about her being a farmer were you Hap?” Opie says with a breath of laughter.

Happy sighs a he catches sight of a dull red Chevrolet truck, the silver plaque on the side reading C _ustom/10_.

“If memory serves, that there is a nineteen-seventy Chevrolet truck.” Opie explains as he watches a bright eyed Dolores step out of the driver’s side with a thermo cup, black sweatpants, a loose gray t-shirt and black sandals that showcased her white painted toe nails. Opie watched as she smiled at Happy, a softness to her that Opie missed with every fiber of his being remembering that same look being sent his way by Donna. Anyway, sad thought’s aside, he watched as she handed Happy the cup and waved at him.

“Good morning Opie.” Dolores chirped brightly as she walked towards him, her hair braided back from her face.

Opie waved back, “Morning, how’s everything?” How’s Beatriz he wanted to ask but he managed to bite his tongue and stop that from leaving his throat. He was with Lyla…even if he couldn’t stop remembering bright blue eyes and soft skin and the smell of gun powder instead of strawberry scented lube.

“Everything’s good, Beatriz wanted me to tell thank you for keeping your word. Appreciates all you’ve done for her.” Dolores says happily before reaching down to grab Happy’s duffle bag and walk back to where Happy’s quietly drinking coffee.

Opie for his part feels a shock run up his spine before he takes a deep breath and pushes it back. He wasn’t awake this early for women trouble, he was here to help load up Hap’s bike and that was it. Opie didn’t need to be plagued with the ghost of Beatriz’s arms winding around his waist as they road away from the abandoned farm, or the steel like resolve in her eyes as Beatriz directed the crime scene, or the way she had leaned into him as she fake cried. Nope, not at all.

Happy watched as Opie grabbed the wheel chock and made his way to the bed of the truck. Any humor that the bearded man had before was gone, his expression somber but Happy didn’t think twice about it. Somber was becoming Opie’s middle name. Instead he finished his coffee and followed after him to load up his bike. Dolores placed his duffle bag in the back, nestled next to her small black suitcase.

Getting everything locked up and tied down, Happy gave his brother a one armed hug before heading to the driver’s side and settling into the worn leather seats. He barely heard Opie’s voice over the idling of the truck but just as he turned to look Dolores was sliding into the passenger side with that soft smile that always made his insides hurt.

“Ready?” He asks.

Dolores reached out to cup his cheek, leaning forward to kiss him so softly that he feels oddly delicate. He wants to deepen the kiss, add some teeth and that small flare of pain that makes everything brighter but he doesn’t. Something in him is frozen, letting that softness wash over him and fill him with a warmness that makes his throat tighten and heart beat erratically. Happy never even knew he could feel something so soft, knowing that he’s mainly made up of sharp jagged edges and dark shimmering depths. It’s nice. Something about it though makes him feel like he’s rolled over, exposing his soft underbelly.

Vulnerable.

That’s what he feels as he lets himself be kissed like he’s something precious. Like he’s someone that matters so much, that the only way to express it is with a chaste slow kiss filled with longing and tenderness.

As Dolores pulls back, whispering how much she had missed him, Happy opens his eyes slowly. Fuck he didn’t even realize that he had closed them in the first place. Staring at her, Happy takes in her soft smile and her warm brown eyes feeling all kinds of feels that he doesn’t know how to deal with. Throat tight and clogged up with all the words that he wants to say but can’t put into the right words to match the delicacy of the moment. Happy wishes, for one feverish second, that he had a way with words like Jax. That he could open his mouth and poetry would come out- but that’s not him. Happy is a man of action, rarely ever does he put words to what he’s thinking. Looking at her, Happy thinks that maybe, just maybe, Dolores knows all the words that are stuck in his throat- maybe she already knows and doesn’t need him to say anything. The way she’s looking at him, makes Happy feel like she’s hearing all the unsaid words that he has. But still, he’s a man of action and before she slides back in her seat and puts on her seat belt Happy reaches for her. Pulling her back into his space, eyes intent on her face and mouth sealed shut, he has her surrounded until all he sees and feels is her.

“Happy?” Dolores asks softly, giving him a questioning look.

Happy hugs her close, just for a second. Just long enough for the grip that is choking him from the inside loosens enough for him to function.

Blinking rapidly Happy clears his throat and pulls out of the hug. Dolores shifts back into place, a gentle look in her eye, and Happy keeps his eyes forward as he puts his foot on the brake so he can reverse out of the now empty parking lot.

As he pulls out and onto the interstate he steals glances at his woman and thinks, yeah…he’s happy.

 

* * *

 

 

Walking into the white house with a bright red painted door, Happy can’t help but grin at the sight of his Momma sitting primly on the couch with an expectant look on her face. She’s got a soft cream scarf wrapped around her head and a loose dress of the same shade. Skin just as golden tan as his, eyes a startling hazel unlike his deep brown eyes. She’s a small woman, but Happy has never known anyone stronger than her.

“Hi Momma.” He says gently, hunching down and wrapping his arms around her.

“Oh my baby, it’s so good to see you.” She says as she pulls back from the hug and cups his cheek, kissing his forehead. “Now let me get a look at your girl.” She whispers before she sends him a wink, shooing him playfully to the side.

Feeling nervous, he turns and motions for Dolores to step forward.

Dolores had made him stop at a rest area just before getting off the exit so that she could change. Happy thought she looked fine but she had just shaken her head and went off to the bathroom muttering about first impressions. She was now wearing a shirt that Happy definitely knew that she had bought recently since he had never seen it in her closet before. A soft floral shirt that flared out at her wrists and a fitted jean with black flats made her look wholesome. Like the girl next door that baked cookies and knew all her neighbors names. Happy had taken one look at her when she came out the bathroom and had pulled her to him and kissed her hard.

Something about messing up her pretty little image set his nerves on fire.

Happy watched as Dolores gave that same soft smile, the one that gutted him every time he saw it, to his Momma, his heart clenching at the sight of them together, and went out to bring in their bags. He figured his Momma had everything handled and that they would talk better without him there.

Outside he took down the bags and set to work on untying the motorcycle and slowly unloaded it from the bed of the truck. Parking it right next to the truck, Happy grabbed their bags and went to his room and set the suitcase and duffle bag on the bed. Hearing a loud laugh Happy went back to the living room, passing the nurse aide that he had employed, and saw Dolores and his Momma hunched over a photo album.

“Oh my god, that is the cutest! He’s adorable.” Dolores cooed as she touched the protective film that covered a baby picture of Happy. In it baby Happy was in the kitchen sink, bubbles covering his head and a bright yellow ducky in his mouth as his little fists hit the water.

“If you think this one is cute, wait till you see this one.” Hope Lowman says with a grin as she turns the page.

Happy’s face burns as the two women lean in to stare at his ass when he was little, standing with an oversized hat and a balled up hand jammed in his mouth. “Don’t show her that.”

“Hush Happy.” Hope scolds before turning to look at the first woman that her baby boy ever brought home. “He was two in that picture, walking about like a fiend and already starting to learn of how to talk. I swear the first word he learned was ‘mine’.”

“Oh,” Dolores says as she bites her lower lip, eyes bright with amusement, “look at his chunky thighs!”

Happy shakes his head and retreats into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry Happy, you’re still tough as nails to me.” Rosa says with a smile as she checks her phone.

“I thought those albums were in the attic.” He says as he eyes her with suspicion.

Rosa shrugs, sliding her phone in the front pocket of her pale orange scrubs, “She’s been excited about this visit Hap. If you have to endure their cooing over baby pictures of you then suck it up. Now come on, help me make lunch. That should buy some time from the embarrassment.”

Happy sighs but does as the older woman bids, his ears catching sound of Dolores and his Momma cooing and cackling like hyenas over another picture of him. Rosa had come to them after Happy had fired the last four live-in nurses. Happy had at that point been foaming at the bit, but the older woman had just taken all his frustration and smiled it away as she answered all his questions. Three years later and here she was still, making herself a part of his little family that was going to gain a whole gaggle of Vanes if he played his cards right.

The day goes by fast and soon Rosa is there helping his Momma up as Dolores heads to the kitchen to clean up, despite being told she didn’t have to. Happy grabs his Momma’s arm and walks her to her room, Rosa walking behind them to take over when Happy’s done.

“You picked a good one my little bundle of happiness.” Hope says as she touches her sons arm. “She’s crazy about you, you need to lock that down fast before someone else swoops in and nabs her.”

“That isn’t going to happen Momma.” Happy says, reassuring his Momma but also vowing to himself. Whoever tried to get in between them should be damn well ready to kill him because that’s the only way he’s letting her go.

“Good, good,” Hope says as Rosa steps up and grabs her, “have a good night Happy. I’ll see the both of you tomorrow.”

Happy kisses his Momma cheek, noticing with glee that she’s gained weight, and walks out. Heading into the kitchen he finds Dolores wiping down the counters, dishes drying in the rack by the sink and steps up behind her to wrap his arms around her. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” She says lowly placing her hand on top of his.

“Tired?”

“A bit.” Dolores says with a shrug.

“Come on.” Happy leads her to his room, closing the door quietly. Back touching the door, Happy stares down at the floral clad woman and gives her a sly look. “You know,” he starts with a smirk, “if we’re _real_ quiet we could break in my bed.”

Dolores gasps and smacks his chest with her hand, leaving a nice brief flare of heat on his pectoral, and shakes her head. “Happy we are in your mother’s house.”

“And? Not like she’s going to hear us.” Happy says unashamedly. He hasn’t had sex in almost a fucking year. Matter of fact, since he met her Happy has turned down pussy like it was an Olympic sport. He was literally aching with the need to spread her thighs and just _push_ into her. Happy thought a lot about the day that they would have sex, because it was going to happen and it would be glorious. Happy wasn’t a saint. Yeah he’s trying for her, but his control was wearing thin.

So yeah, he fucking meant it when he told her his Momma wouldn’t hear them- he’d put his hand over her mouth as he fucked into her to keep her quiet because the way he wanted her there was no way he’d be gentle.

“Happy,” Dolores says as she walks up to him, “I am not having sex in the same house as your mother. When we finally do get down I want it to be just you and me so that I don’t have that worry in the back of my mind to keep the noise down. You understand me?”

Staring deep into her eyes Happy understood her alright. He understood that he wanted to hear her yell, whimper, growl and snarl and _beg_. Happy needed to make the day where he had Dolores all to himself come faster than this glacier pace that they had going on. It was as he looked down at her, feasting on her heated expression that Happy remembered a certain blue eyed sister.

And just like that a proverbial light bulb turned on in his mind.

He knew that Beatriz had gone radio silent up till about a couple of days ago, and he knew that she had texted Dolores and Dolores had cried on his shoulder about how happy she was to have the little demon back in her life. Considering all the hell that Beatriz put Dolores in, Happy was going to enlist her help to clear out their parents and their little brothers. His mind starting hatching a plan to get the farm house all to himself so that he could finally get Dolores naked, on her back and him in between her thighs.

God just thinking about it had his mouth watering.

“Alright, so no fucking.” Happy said in the end, his hands free and going under her shirt to cup lace covered breasts. The floral shirt bunched up around his wrists, the splash of colors bright against his tanned skin. Happy spied the cream plane of her stomach and clenched his jaw against the urge to duck down and bite down on the soft skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He needed to get ahold of himself. Wasn’t like he’s never done this before, his hands up her shirt, but Dolores was always so covered up that literally anything she wears that’s out of the norm gets his engine going as if on Nos.

Squeezing, feeling the rounded plumpness of her breasts and her nipples hardening as he ran his thumbs over the peaks with a ravenous hunger that threatened to shatter his control, Happy leaned forward to catch her bottom lip in between his teeth and bite down. Hearing her whimper, the pain laced groan that quietly fades into pleasure, he feels her hands go to his biceps and the sharp bite of her nails digging into his skin. Fuck he wants to fuck her up so bad, leave her lying on the bed, legs spread with exhaustion and chest heaving as sweat trailed down her flushed skin. He wanted to lick away the sweat that would gather on her neck, trailing down her chest. Happy wanted to touch her face as he fucked her, his fingers caressing her lips, jaw and cheek before diving into her hair. He wanted to thread his fingers with her dark strands and _pull_. Wanted to see her head be yanked back, her throat exposed to him and tits jiggling as he moved in her with no remorse. Wanted to sink his teeth into that pale column, leave his mark, and when he finally decided to end it he’d come in her so she’d fucking feel him everywhere.

“God I’m going to fuck you so hard when I get the chance. Mark you up until I’m engraved in your skin.” He snarls into her ear as the filters in his mind falls under the heavy weight of lust. “You’re going to feel me every second of every fucking day, burrowed under your fucking skin until you forget that how to live without me.” Pulling one hand free, he slides it roughly down her side to her back to grab her ass, “You’re **mine** Dolores. The second I fucking saw you walk through those doors at St. Thomas, bleeding and gritting your teeth to make it to the ER I knew. Knew that you were different, knew that I needed to have you.” Happy let go of her breast to move his hand to her scar, hauling her closer so that there wasn’t even space for air between them. Kissing her, hearing her hunger filled gasps, feeling her nails sinking deeper into his skin had his blood boiling hot at the pain, Happy rubbed his hand up and down the thin scar. “I need to know, I need you to fucking tell me right here right now.” He growls at her bucking into her hips, fingers clamping down harshly into the meat of her ass even as the hand on her scar stayed gentle, staring at her unblinking so he sees her eyes opening. He looks deep into dilated brown eyes and thinks, **_yes_**.

“What?” Dolores pants as she follows his mouth, kissing him hard as she grinds into his hips. “What do you need to know?”

“I need to know,” Happy says as he moves with her, hips grinding and mouths biting at each other, “I need to know that you feel the same. That you want me how I want you.” He finally confesses. Stepping back, even as his dick twitches with rage at the loss of friction, he waits for her answer.

Dolores stares at him with a drunk expression, slightly swaying on her feet as her lips turn red and kiss swollen. Relaxing her grip on him she looks over him, eyes narrowing as she looks at him up and down. Happy’s all sharp cheekbones and furrowed brows, tan golden skin and beautiful ink work. Calloused hands, lethal lithe strength and soft lips. He’s all bark and bite, but so loyal and surprisingly thoughtful and so gentle when he wants to be. He’s strong, so strong that Dolores knows that he could survive anything life throws at him, but at the same time he’s got this vulnerability to him that makes Dolores eyes sting with emotion when she sees it. He’s so strong and so fragile that Dolores wants to grab him roughly so that he can feel her imprinted on his skin always, but she also wants to hold him so softly in fear that she’d hurt him. Happy is unlike anyone she’s ever met. He’s such a hard man, but Dolores wouldn’t trade him for anyone in the world, even if he’s a bit weird when he stares and stares without blinking. She can’t help but smile happily at him.

Happy sees her smile, that same goddamn soft smile that gets his guts all twisted up, and holds his breath.

“Happy Lowman, I didn’t even know that I was missing you from my life until you rode up to my house and cleaned my room. You are imperfectly perfect and I love you.” Dolores says with a soft smile and her head held high.

Happy lets out a ragged breath and stands there stunned as Dolores pulls him in gently and hugs him. Hugs him the same way that she had kissed him this morning. All soft and gentle like he was fine china and the smallest hint of pressure would break him into a million pieces. He doesn’t know why that makes him hurt inside, the good kind of hurt that reminds you that you’re fucking alive.

Throat tightening painfully, Happy finds himself hugging her back, his dick still hard but not important as the words she said burned into his brain. He wraps his arms around her, the heat in his blood and the animal in him taming, just as gentle as Dolores. He feels her head rest against his cheek and it’s the most natural thing in the world to rest his cheek against her in return.

His Momma was right, he needed to lock her down. She loves him. Dolores **loves** him, Happy Lowman. Only woman to ever love him is his Momma, but it isn’t the same.

Feeling all kinds of stupid and giddy and fucking mind blown, Happy opens his mouth even as his hands tighten around her a bit desperately, and says almost brokenly, “I love you Dolores Vane.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to delve into the club's intricate dealings. Feeling too lazy for that. 
> 
> Read, Review and Enjoy.


End file.
